


Acquaintances

by KivaEmber



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Trigger Warning for depression, high school to college and all that jazz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The human heart isn't made to be alone for so long - it becomes empty and hard." A series of oneshots from when Hibiki and Yamato meet as high school students and onwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamato does not know how to treat this strange person who's so insistent on breaking into his personal bubble of solitude.

It was snowing.

 

Yamato watched the white flakes floating down lazily, curled up on the squeaky swing seat. It was a simple thing of two rusty chains and a thick plank of wood, his small form wedged between the two chains, his feet tucked close together to fit on the wood. The chain was digging uncomfortably into his back, but he didn’t really mind. A small wind made the swing rock gently, the rusty metal squeaking softly from the movement.

 

He dug his hands deeper under his armpits, his fingers starting to feel numb from cold, and let out a quiet sigh. His breath rose up as visible pale vapour, and he let his head fall back against the metal chain almost lifelessly. It was too cold. He could feel it settling in through the fabric of his thin sweater. It was made to look smart, not to contain body heat – which seemed like a massive oversight in its design to Yamato.

 

The supporting bar of the swing loomed overhead, its red paint peeling back to reveal the rusted black metal underneath. Past it the sky was a pale grey, swirls of white snow cutting through, carried by the freezing wind.

 

_‘Squeak’._

 

It was very lonesome. It was an old park, buried in the middle of a low end residential area, and its climbing frames, see-saws, and swings were poorly maintained, with the metal rusting away from years of wind and rain, and parts missing or defaced from past vandalising. No one really came here, unless it was one of the local gangs of teenage thugs having sneaky cigarettes and chatting shit – for a young boy in an expensive private school uniform, it was a strange place to be.

 

_‘Squeak’._

Yamato abruptly sat up, his feet slipping off the swing to settle on the pitted rubber floor underneath it. Straddling the plank of wood, he leaned down to rummage inside of his school bag, dumped haphazardly on the floor beneath him. It was filled with thick text books and workbooks, as well as an uneaten packed lunch, and then-

 

His phone.

 

He settled back in his previous position on the swing, his phone in his hands, and flipped it open with numb fingers. He looked at the screen, a simple background of pale blue, taking note of the time; half five. He should have been home hours ago, and yet… there wasn’t a single message or missed call registered on his phone. He had three bars of signal as well, so shoddy connection wasn’t an excuse either.

 

“…”

 

Yamato let the phone drop from his hand and clatter dully onto the rubber mat underneath him. His hands were stuffed back under his armpits, and he rested his forehead on his knees. He felt sleepy. He was cold too. Those two in combination weren’t good. The swing rocked, and the cold wind that gusted over him bit through his thin sweater.

 

He shivered.

 

“…um, hey…”

 

An uncertain voice spoke up from somewhere to his near left, and he lifted his head slowly, blinking the blurriness out of his vision. There was a boy standing before him, probably just a little older than himself, dressed in a dark grey uniform with a blue and white tie. It was vaguely familiar, even if the name wasn’t rising to Yamato’s memory – it was a public school relatively close to here. A decent one.

 

Yamato just stared at him blankly.

 

The boy – dark curly hair and bright blue eyes – smiled, although it looked a bit nervous, and he rubbed the back of his neck in an unnatural gesture. Yamato tracked the movement almost absently. “Uh, I saw you sitting there… are you okay?”

 

Are you okay?

 

“Yes,” Yamato replied, tone flat and unwelcoming.

 

“Oh,” the boy lowered his hand, but didn’t seem deterred from Yamato’s cold reply. His gaze dropped down to the floor, landing on Yamato’s phone. He leaned down, paused, looked at Yamato to see if he’d be stopped, before slowly continuing downwards. He picked up Yamato’s phone.

 

“Did you drop this?”

 

“Yes,” Yamato turned his face away, staring at the thick chain instead, “I don’t want it. You may have it if you wish.”

 

“Uh… it looks pretty expensive…” the boy said, and his tone jarred oddly against Yamato’s ears. He couldn’t see his expression, so determined Yamato was to etch the chain in front of him into memory, and he heard the soft click of his phone being snapped shut.

 

“I’ll put it back into your bag for you,” the boy continued, his voice brightening with false cheer. Yamato didn’t move when the boy grabbed his bag, dragging it across the floor, and crouching down to carefully slip the phone in there. An awkward silence reigned when the boy straightened up and stared at him, fiddling with the shoulder strap of his own school bag.

 

“So… uh, you’re from that private school near the city monument, aren’t you?” the boy said after a heavy pause, “I recognise the uniform. You’re, um, a bit far from there, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…hm…” Yamato saw the boy shift his weight, and from the corner of his eye, he saw the boy’s expression tighten a little. He was probably getting annoyed at Yamato’s repeated replies, but he shouldn’t try to make conversation with uninterested strangers then-

 

“Are you really okay?” the boy asked abruptly. Yamato managed to make sense of his expression then – open and utter concern. There was a strange softness to his eyes, one unfamiliar to Yamato, and when he moved closer, Yamato’s shoulders drew up tight.

 

“…”

 

“Well, I guess that’s nosy of me,” the boy smiled wryly, and he half turned away from Yamato. The white snow was sticking to the dark collar of his shirt, but blended into the white coat he was wearing, open, over it – Yamato could see a strange hood jutting from the back of it, with two long strips of cloth hanging from it. They looked like-

 

“I’m Hibiki by the way,” the boy said abruptly, turning back to Yamato with startling suddenness, “Hibiki Kuze. What’s your name?”

 

“…”

 

“A secret, huh?” the boy, Hibiki, continued to talk, utterly undeterred from Yamato’s cold silence. “Okay. I’ll call you Snow then.”

 

“…don’t call me that,” Yamato muttered. Hibiki just shot him a little smile, one full of mischief.

 

“Why? I think it suits you quite well. Sorta romantic too, right? Meeting in the snow in an abandoned park-”

 

“It’s Yamato Hotsuin. Hotsuin to you,” Yamato finally said, perhaps a bit snappishly, but he wasn’t sure how to take this friendly boy’s attitude. Was it some form of trick? Yamato couldn’t see anyone the boy would be performing for, and there weren’t many hiding places for nearby groups of idiots to congregate under. People could be malicious for their own personal entertainment however, so Yamato remained fully cautious.

 

“Hotsuin…” the schoolboy tried the name thoughtfully, letting the name roll over his tongue. “Hotsuin… got it. It sounds sort of familiar… have we met before?”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright,” Hibiki took that sharp reply with an easy smile. “It’s nice to meet you, then. Do you want my coat? You look cold.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You sure? You’re shivering a bit there…”

 

“I said I’m fine.”

 

Yamato was beginning to get irritated with this boy’s presence, and he threw him a dark look, practically willing him to leave him alone. Instead of being intimidated or annoyed by Yamato’s unfriendly attitude, Hibiki just stepped closer, his gentle smile not wavering even once. Who was this weird boy?

 

“Your lips are starting to turn blue, you know,” Hibiki said carelessly.

 

“I don’t care,” Yamato half-snapped, and buried himself down into a tighter ball on the swing, squeezing his hands into fists underneath his armpits. He could barely feel his fingers, and what he could feel was a painful needle like sensation. He didn’t need to look at them to know that they were probably pure white, signalling lack of total blood flow.

 

“Well _I_ do,” Hibiki said, “’Cuz I can’t just let someone freeze to death in front of me. Here-”

 

The schoolboy suddenly shrugged out of his white coat, and Yamato could see that the two long strips of cloth hanging off the hood were bunny ears (seriously). Without warning the boy tossed it over Yamato almost like it was a blanket, and the warmth clinging to it was almost blissful when it settled over Yamato knees and shoulders.

 

…enough so that he couldn’t bring himself to throw it off.

 

“…” Yamato clenched his jaw and turned his face away, subtly moving his hands to curl into the soft coat, the warmth seeping into his cold fingers.

 

“There we go,” Hibiki smiled wider, and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, hunching his shoulders a little. The dark grey shirt underneath looked just as thin as Yamato’s sweater, but he didn’t seem cold at all, not even when a bitingly cold wind hissed by, ruffling his long tie.

 

“…so, Hotsuin,” the boy piped up after a bit of a pause. He was staring at Yamato levelly. “You planning on sleeping there tonight?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yamato muttered. “I merely wished to be alone for a few hours – before you interrupted.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong in wanting to be alone, but… uh, usually it’s good to do that indoors in this weather,” Hibiki replied, slipping a hand out of his pocket to hold it upwards. Snow settled in it instantly. The white flakes were beginning to fall heavier, the air around them almost opaque from the flurry. Yamato could see the flakes sticking to Hibiki’s dark shirt, causing a thin dusting of white to form on his shoulders already.

 

“…” Yamato just stared back at the chain. Past the sharp scent of cold damp and rot, he could smell something like strong peppermints. It was from Hibiki’s coat.

 

“…your coat smells too strongly,” he said, even as he buried himself under it a bit tighter. He wasn’t adverse to the smell of peppermints. It reminded him of sterile cleanliness.

 

“Sorry,” Hibiki said insincerely. He gave a shiver then, and he rubbed his hands together. His fingers were red, the skin beginning to get a bit blotchy from the cold. “Can we go somewhere warmer? There’s a chippy not far from here we can sit in.”

 

“…” Yamato watched the snow begin to fall in a near curtain. He could feel snowflakes starting to stick to his cheeks, and even clinging to his eyelashes, the fall was that thick. Well – yes, he couldn’t stay out here any longer, unless he had a death wish, and he certainly didn’t.

 

He slowly uncurled himself, his muscles stiff and aching from maintaining the position in such cold weather for so long. He let the coat tumble into his arms, and he held it out to the shivering boy, even if he was loathed to part with the warmth.

 

“Keep it,” Hibiki said, and he gave a smile so blindingly warm that Yamato’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the coat, “I’ll warm up on the way there.”

 

“…I see,” Yamato found himself muttering, feeling off-kilter for reasons he couldn’t explain. After a bit of hesitation, he slung the coat on, zipping it up to keep in the warmth. Hibiki bent down to pick up his schoolbag while he did that, and held it out to him. Yamato took it without a word, slinging it over his shoulder.

 

“Very dashing,” Hibiki complimented. His grin was every inch of a roguish school boy’s. “Let’s go, Hotsuin.”

 

And in a startling gesture of familiarity, the boy reached out and grabbed his hand. It was just as cold as his.

  


 

* * *

  


 

The chip shop was very cramped, with only four small tables inside it. The smell of salt and fish was almost overpowering, and it was noisy with the hiss of the deep fryer, the clang of utensils against hot stoves, and constant orders. It was foreign territory to Yamato, and compared to outside, absolutely sweltering.

 

“This place is so cheap, it’s great to come to after school,” Hibiki was chattering. It seemed many others shared Hibiki’s viewpoint, as the chip shop was full of students, most likely on their way to grammar school – or simply too lazy to get changed out of their uniform even at this hour.

 

Yamato felt a bit disconnected from reality. He was still wearing the boy’s coat, and he was seated in a shop he wouldn’t have dared to even look at before. It was unbearably _civilian_ , with crowds of people walking in and out at a constant pace, and the food was foreign as well, with everything fried or battered or wrapped in thick pastry. Hibiki ordered for him, because he had been so utterly clueless, and he was just staring at the white Styrofoam tray that held a bunch of greasy chips drenched in vinegar and salt.

 

It didn’t seem real, to him. Maybe he had fallen asleep in the park, and this was a particularly vivid dream before he succumbed to the cold conditions? It was rather bizarre, in that case.

 

“You not hungry, Hotsuin?” Hibiki’s voice broke Yamato out of his bewildered daze, and he looked up to see the school boy staring at him worriedly, the bright blue plastic fork poised to stick into his own tray of chips. Yamato blinked slowly at the sight.

 

“…not particularly. This doesn’t look appetising.”

 

“Well,” Hibiki quickly smiled, and he lowered his fork. He stabbed it into one of the chips in Yamato’s tray, and held it up expectantly. Was he seriously- “Let me help! Open wide~”

 

Yamato kicked him under the table, and Hibiki yelped, dropping the fork onto the table. With a whine, the schoolboy leaned away from him, and then half dipped under the table, rubbing at his shin with a soft hiss of pain.

 

“ _Oooow_ …that hurt, you asshole…”  

 

“Don’t treat me like a child, then,” Yamato said a bit snippily, his eyebrows furrowing into a deep frown. He looked down at the tray before him, giving a small sniff, before picking up his own ridiculous looking plastic fork and stabbing one chip almost aggressively. He was continuously told that this type of food wouldn’t be to his taste, and up close, it seemed like that would be correct – but he should confirm it at least, instead of staring at it like an idiot.

 

He placed it in his mouth – and paused.

 

It.

 

I…It…

 

“............”

 

Yamato quickly lowered his fork and speared another greasy chip. It may look disgusting – and was probably fatally unhealthy – but it was actually – satisfactory. Yamato tried to keep his motions controlled, eating one chip after another – but far too quickly his tray was empty, and all that remained were splotches of vinegar and a dusting of salt. He stared at the tray almost mournfully.

 

Hibiki, who had been forgotten in the revelation of this delicious meal, suddenly made a weird chuckling noise. “D-Did you enjoy that?”

 

Yamato lifted his head, and blinked at the odd expression on Hibiki’s face. The schoolboy was leaning on his hand, chin resting on the palm, with a wide, fond grin on his face, his eyes filled with a warmness that made Yamato frown. He didn’t understand that expression. He didn’t know what it meant.

 

“It was satisfactory,” Yamato said, settling his fork down, even as he eyed the remaining chips on Hibiki’s tray.

 

Without even hesitating, Hibiki pushed his tray of chips towards Yamato, turning his face away with a gentler smile.

 

“You can have the rest of ‘em.”

 

Yamato paused, but didn’t wait for Hibiki to change his mind. He took the tray, and starting eating the chips – a bit cooler than he liked, but they were still delicious, and, once again, gone far too quickly. Yamato made a mental note to come to this chip shop for more at a later date, even if it was a bit out of the way to come to.

 

“So, how old are you?” Hibiki asked when Yamato set down his plastic fork. “I’m fifteen.”

 

“Fourteen.”

 

“Huh…” Hibiki’s eyebrows raised a fraction, but he didn’t look all that surprised, “I expected you to be older. You’ve got a really deep voice.”

 

“Hm…”

 

Yamato turned his head away, watching the other people in the chip shop. All of them were wearing the uniform to the nearby public schools – he couldn’t see any with his own uniform. Understandable, really, since his school was for those who were sons and daughters of highly successful families… politicians, businessmen… they wouldn’t be caught dead in such a common fast food shop.

 

“Really mature face too – although you totally need more sleep. You look kinda ill with those bags under your eyes,” Hibiki was still talking, “I was pegging you at about sixteen myself…”

 

“Is that so,” Yamato muttered absently, tuning the other boy out. He felt full, and hot, and tired. He rubbed at his eyes, his head feeling muddled up. What was he doing, sitting here? He didn’t know this boy – he was wearing his coat as well – eating greasy unknown food – just letting himself be dragged here and there… he should have been home hours ago, although his phone hadn’t signalled any messages yet. Unsurprisingly. The apartment was probably still empty.

 

“What’s your favourite subject?” Hibiki asked abruptly.

 

“Astronomy,” Yamato said instantly. He turned back to Hibiki, frowning a little. “Why?”

 

“Just curious,” Hibiki smiled blithely, his eyelashes fluttering in an expression Yamato was unfamiliar with. He hadn’t interacted with someone so expressive for so long – most of the people at school were too aggravating for Yamato to associate too long with, and he had little experience with expressions… and tonal inflections… and social situations in general….

 

He found this tiring.

 

“Astronomy… so you’re into stars, right?” Hibiki pressing his fingers against his mouth, and Yamato had to look away in a sharp movement. _That_ gesture he was familiar with.

 

“I don’t know much about them,” Hibiki continued, oblivious to Yamato’s discomfort, “I know some constellations though, like, Orion, or, umm, the Big Dipper! Like, Polaris, the North Star’s in that one, right?”

 

“Polaris, Benetsnacht, Mizar, Alioth, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, Dubhe,” Yamato rattled off, and then added quietly; “…Alcor as well.”

 

Hibiki blinked at him, surprised, dropping his hand from his mouth before his expression lit up, smiling warmly as he gushed; “Whoa! That was impressive! You know those off by heart?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Cool…” Hibiki leaned back in his seat, setting his palms firmly on the edge of the table. “Well! We better get going before we get thrown out for keeping this table. Want me to walk you home?”

 

“No,” Yamato’s expression flattened at the mention of ‘home’. “Your company isn’t required.”

 

Hibiki studied him for a moment, a small frown tugging at his mouth – before he smiled. “You sure? It’s pretty dangerous outside right now-”

 

“I’m not a child,” Yamato interrupted sharply, irritation beginning to curdle in his stomach. “I don’t require a babysitter.”

 

“Hey,” Hibiki made a soothing gesture with his hands, “I’m just looking out for a friend-”

 

“We’re _not_ friends.”

 

There was a bit of a silence at the vehement snap, and Yamato glowered at the boy in front of him. Hibiki’s smile drooped a bit, before it perked back up, but not as vibrantly as before. In fact, it reminded Yamato of cardboard – almost painfully false.

 

“True, yeah, we’re strangers. Sorry, I’m overfamiliar at times, heh,” Hibiki’s eyes squinted as he laughed, and he rubbed the back of his neck in that unnatural movement again. Yamato looked away, feeling angry because – he felt strange. Bad. Ill. He did not understand why.

 

A suffocating silence fell on them, and Yamato could see, from the corner of his eye, Hibiki’s face go through different subtle emotions. False smile, thoughtful, frowning, exasperation, false smile again, then something that looked vaguely pained and understanding-

 

“I’ll leave you to it, then. I gotta get back myself,” Hibiki pushed his seat out and stood up, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder in one movement. It startled Yamato. “It was nice meeting with you, Hotsuin.”

 

“…” Yamato grinded his teeth before he stood up abruptly. Hibiki jolted a bit in surprise, blinking rapidly, and Yamato stared at him – hard.

 

“…do you want your coat back?” he finally said, lifting his hand up to the zipper. He could practically see the boy droop several inches in size.

 

“Um… nah, you can keep it…” Hibiki made a dismissive gesture, and, before Yamato could argue, gave him a friendly salute before turning on his heel. “See you around, maybe!”

 

Yamato didn’t call him back when Hibiki plunged into the thick crowd of the chip shop, and he slowly sat down, staring at the two empty Styrofoam trays with a contemplative look. He felt ill for some reason, his stomach twisting in a way that made him feel nauseous. Maybe this food didn’t agree with him when eaten in large portions.

 

He bent down, picking up his schoolbag, and slung it over his shoulder. Looking at the large window of the chip shop saw it completely white outside. The idiot had run out in there in just a thin school shirt… he was going to freeze to death. Yamato fingered the metal handle of the coat’s zipper, the ill feeling increasing even more.

 

 _‘We’re_ not _friends.’_

That was right. The boy was far too presumptuous and trusting for his own good. Yamato was wise to remind him that being nice to someone didn’t automatically mean a friendship.

 

He lowered his hand from the zipper, and pushed his way outside. It was cold and gusty, the pavement slippery with snow and ice, and he crammed his hands into the pockets of his borrowed coat, feeling crinkles of past receipts and bus tickets in there – as well as a…

 

Yamato frowned, pulling out the hard plastic object, squinting through the flurry of snow to see that he was holding a blue mobile phone.

 

“…”

 

What an idiot.

  


 

* * *

  


 

The apartment was dark when Yamato arrived at it, and the shoe rack only held the spare boots for wet weather. He let the door close behind him, and he took off Hibiki’s coat, holding it carefully as he made his way to the bathroom. He was absolutely dripping wet, having walked and waited for two buses for the past hour, and although the coat had been warm to begin with, even it began to succumb to the extreme weather.

 

After hanging it over the bathtub, letting it dry, Yamato stripped out of his wet uniform, and let that hang as well, before climbing into the shower. The hot water was bliss on his cold body, and by the time he got out, he felt a bit less frozen, and way more alive.

 

The wind could be heard when Yamato settled into the living room twenty minutes later, dressed in his evening wear, with one of his textbooks and workbooks open on the coffee table, sitting cross legged on the floor. The television was on, the news specifically, and on the coffee table beside his books were a cup of coffee, his mobile, and… Hibiki’s mobile.

 

He hadn’t bothered opening it (it would be locked if the boy had any sense anyway), but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away either. Hibiki could call it and arrange to have it picked up, or give Yamato an address to send it to – why he would go out of his way to do that he didn’t know – in return for letting him borrow the boy’s coat. Ah, he could return that too. Then they would be even. Yamato wouldn’t owe anyone any favours.

 

It was when the clock on the news said it was close to nine o’clock at night that something finally happened. Yamato had long since finished his (pitifully easy) homework, and he was sitting on the sofa, staring at the television almost blankly, when he was startled by a sudden cheerful belting of a J-Pop song.

 

It was Hibiki’s phone.

 

He leaned over, picking up Hibiki’s phone, and settled back against the sofa, flipping his phone open and heaving a sigh. It… wasn’t locked. This boy was far too trusting for his own good. Or just stupid. Yamato stared at the little message icon, chewing on bottom lip, before he tapped it with a frown.

 

_From: Daichi_  
To: Hibiki  
  
“Hey its hibiki! Lol sorry b/ I forgot phone in coat. dumb of me huh? txt back if u have it snow!” 

“…”

 

What.

 

What was this.

 

Yamato just stared at the terrible message, unable to take the poor grammar seriously. Was this intentional? Was this how teenagers spoke to one other through written medium? Yamato was almost happy to miss out this part of socialising then. It was absolutely disgraceful.

 

_From: Hibiki_  
To: Daichi  
  
“Your grammar is absolutely appalling. I also said not to call me ‘Snow’. Give me your address and I will send your mobile phone and coat to you.” 

Yamato only had to wait thirty seconds before the next message came;

 

_From: Daichi_  
To: Hibiki  
  
“ur so mean! quick 2 spek like this. sides think better 2 meet up than send post. how bout park tomoz if weather is nice?” 

Yamato frowned, having to read it a few times to understand the stupid gibberish. He almost scoffed when he translated it.

 

_From: Hibiki_  
To: Daichi  
  
“I would prefer post. I refuse to meet with you if you continue to speak in such a ridiculous manner.” 

 

This time the next message came within forty seconds.

 

_From: Daichi_  
To: Hibiki  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk normally. Please meet up with tomorrow, Hotsuin? xxx” 

 

What did the ‘x’s mean? Yamato wasn’t certain, but at least Hibiki was using proper grammar and spelling now. He worried his bottom lip briefly before looking upwards at the ceiling. It was stark white and plain, dimly lit with only the television offering light in the living room. Tomorrow… would be exactly the same as today, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Yamato would have anything else to do, and as tiring as he was, Hibiki offered some sort of break from the monotone.

 

After a bit of thought, Yamato replied, wondering if he was making the right decision.

 

_From: Hibiki_  
To: Daichi:  
  
“Very well. We will meet at the swings at sixteen-thirty tomorrow. Don’t be late, Kuze.” 

Ten seconds.

 

_From: Daichi_  
To: Hibiki  
  
“Aye, aye, sir! See you then! xxxxxxxx!!!!” 

Yamato closed Hibiki’s phone with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes as he let the silence sink in. What was he getting himself into…?

  


 

* * *

  


 

The weather had calmed considerably since last night. It had stopped snowing, but everything was covered in a thick layer of white powder. At school, people were irritating him with questions of his ‘peculiar coat’. Some of the girls asked where he had got it from, and what brand it was, and how they wouldn’t expect someone as ‘serious’ as him would wear such a thing. Yamato just ignored them. It was just annoying noise.  

 

When school ended, he took the bus to the park, which had been delayed by the heavy snow. It very nearly made him late, and when he arrived at the park, it was edging close to four o’clock. He spotted Hibiki’s messy dark hair first, a spot of black against a background of white. He was sitting on the swing they met at, idly pushing himself backwards and forwards with the heels of his feet.

 

He was wearing something different this time – the dark school shirt and tie was gone. Instead he was wearing a white and blue striped turtleneck sweater, with a school blazer thrown over the top of it. It was a ridiculous mix in Yamato’s opinion, but, if he made off with the boy’s only coat… he understood why he was probably wearing that.

 

“Kuze,” Yamato called, his shoes crunching over the frozen snow. He saw the boy look over his shoulder, and his expression brightened almost immediately. He was almost like a puppy.

 

“Ya- Hotsuin!” Hibiki greeted, slipping off of the swing and practically jogging around it. Yamato stood his ground when the older boy made his way over, and once he was close enough, held out the phone in a sharp movement.

 

“Here.”

 

“Uh,” Hibiki almost slipped on the snow when he came to a sudden stop, staring down at the offered phone. He took it with an enthused ‘thank you’, his fingers brushing (deliberately, Yamato could tell) against Yamato’s gloved ones, and clutched it tight to his chest. He looked unusually happy. It made Yamato suspicious.

 

“…what?”

 

“You’re wearing my coat, still,” Hibiki said. There was an unknown emotion edging his words – Yamato struggled to decipher it, but he could at least guess that it was a positive emotion. “You like it?”

 

“It’s warm,” Yamato replied shortly, “I will return it to you now-”

 

“No, no, it’s okay! I said you could keep it,” Hibiki said hurriedly, stowing his phone away in his pocket. He rocked back and forth on his heels when he was done, his smile fading a bit as he suddenly looked away, his posture a bit awkward. The change was very abrupt, and Yamato found himself confused as to the cause of it.

 

“Uh, but, um, thank you for returning my phone. Sorry for inconveniencing you by making you come out here…”

 

Hibiki’s voice was very formal, very polite, and Yamato felt himself frown in response. To switch very abruptly from the boy’s familiar way of speaking to this distant way was… bewildering to say the least. He nodded in response though, finding some awkwardness start to creep into his own posture.

 

“…It was no trouble.”

 

A silence loomed over them, and Yamato stared at Hibiki, who stared at the nearby climbing frame. The sky was steel grey, darker than yesterday, and the air was sharply cold. Yamato could see that Hibiki’s nose was pink in response to the chill, as well as the tips of his ears, and he would give a quiet sniff every now and then.

 

“If that’s all,” Yamato finally said, not having the patience to simply stand there all day, “I will be leaving.”

 

Hibiki turned back to him and opened his mouth, only to pause and close it with a frown. “Um, well…” he stared at his feet before looking up with a small smile – it was somewhat hopeful, his blue eyes fluttering in an expression Yamato was unfamiliar with. “Before you go, could I ask… wanna grab some chips?”

 

“…”

 

Yamato stared at him, and he felt his head start to hurt a little from trying to figure out Hibiki’s expression and tone and words. Yesterday had been a plunge into the deep end in regards to social situations, although Yamato was aware that he had been extremely rude when reminding him bluntly that they weren’t friends. After a night of sleeping on it, he had felt – not quite guilty over his words, but understood that he had been unappreciative considering the boy had fed him and allowed him to wear his coat in such cold weather. Yamato understood debts and returning them, at least, and his behaviour hadn’t adhered to those rules very well.

 

So…

 

“Very well,” he said, nodding firmly. This will close the debt between them, and Yamato could part from this boy with no unfinished business.

 

The smile that Hibiki gave him made him rethink his decision almost instantly, although he couldn’t quite understand why.

  


 

* * *

  


 

The chip shop was almost identical as yesterday – filled with students, filled with shouts of orders, filled with the smell of batter and fish, although this time there weren’t any spaces to sit inside, so they sat outside on a nearby bench. It was cold, and wet, and the only reason Yamato sat there was because chips were involved. The chip shop was set on the street that was filled with cheap foreign shops, mostly Western, and those that passed were mostly students or young adults.

 

The chips were warm in Yamato’s lap as well. Instead of a Styrofoam tray, he was given a large paperbag instead. The heat soaked through the rough paper and onto his lap, and there was a sizable pile to eat from as well, thoroughly drenched in vinegar and salt. There was probably enough salt there that it would give Yamato a heart attack within minutes of eating it but – it was delicious, and he found himself uncaring of such a thing.

 

Next to him, Hibiki was holding a cup of coffee. He didn’t order any food from the chip shop – which Yamato found odd, considering he suggested it – and was staring out into the crowd with a small frown to his face. He was quiet as well, which was massively jarring, as he hadn’t stopped talking once when Yamato met him yesterday. Was this change in character normal?

 

The silence between them was tense as well. It put him off of his food, which aggravated him. He frowned down into his lap, piercing a lone piece of chip. He hunched his shoulders when a cold chill blew past, and Hibiki shifted next to him.

 

“So…” Hibiki began. His voice was muted and thoughtful, “Why were you sitting in the park yesterday?”

 

“…” Yamato ate the chip on his fork, letting the silence drag as he chewed. When he swallowed; “That’s personal.”

 

“I see,” Hibiki turned the Styrofoam cup in his hands. “I used to go to that park a lot myself until a few years ago. It was nice to be alone there.”

 

“…” Yamato said nothing in response.

 

“Well,” Hibiki smiled wryly, “I say a few years ago, but more like seven. It was a bit better then. The paint wasn’t peeling so badly, and there was less graffiti.”

 

There was silence between them then, and the wind stirred quietly at their feet. Yamato ate quietly, watching the feet of the crowd who passed. The snow was churned up, and it was shoved into grey, uneven lumps, holding dangerous pieces of ice within it.

 

Hibiki was staring into his coffee, and then he lifted it up and took a small sip of it. He wrinkled his nose, lowering it with a grunt. “That’s gross. Why did I buy this?”

 

He tipped it out onto the ground, melting the snow almost instantly and making vapour rise up quickly into the air. Hibiki let the empty Styrofoam cup hang limply from his hand, letting black droplets drip out slowly onto the pavement below.

 

“Mm… but yeah, I just… I mean, it’s a good place to be alone, but…” Hibiki frowned, then let out a harsh exhale, “You just reminded me a bit of myself is all, so… you can say no if you want, but, do you want to be friends?”

 

Yamato didn’t immediately reply. He chased a few of the chips around the grease soaked paper on his lap, peering at Hibiki from the corner of his eye. “I don’t have friends.”

 

“That much is obvious,” Hibiki said, but not cruelly. “But it’s hard to live without people. The heart isn’t made to be alone for so long, y’know?” he leaned on his knees, catching Yamato’s eye and sending him the softest smile he had ever seen. “I thought it would be easier to be without anyone too, once. But it’s actually really empty and hard. What is there when it’s just you?”

 

Yamato said nothing. Empty and hard. The silent and dark apartment came to mind, of multiple nights of living alone and with no living soul to speak to, with expectations pressing down on him from faceless family members that may as well have been strangers writing letters to him. He pressed the fork down hard enough on the paper that it ripped a hole through it.

 

“…I had it literally beaten into me though, so I hope we can avoid that with you,” Hibiki smiled, with a hint of mischief, “You don’t have to agree. I can just be a friendly acquaintance if you want. Just… think about it, is all.”

 

“…” Yamato let go of the plastic fork and started to calmly roll up the paper into a neat little ball. He deposited it in the bin beside the bench, and folded his hands in his lap. He looked at Hibiki’s face, and it was open and earnest. He was so trusting. He was asking a near stranger to be friends – true, Yamato was a fellow student, so the chances of him being a mass-murdering psychopath was low, but, Yamato had made no attempt to be friendly or kind or anything. Why would he want to be friends with him?

 

Pity? Self-satisfaction of being kind? Feeling of familiarity with a kindred spirit?

 

“I don’t…” Yamato paused, “I don’t know you.”

 

“That’s okay,” Hibiki grinned, “You can find out who I am easily enough. Just ask.”

 

Yamato stared hard at him for a long moment, and said; “I’m not a nice person.”

 

Hibiki scrunched up the Styrofoam cup in his hand, and, in a quick movement, tossed the ball over Yamato’s head and into the bin – perfect shot. “Probably not – but who knows. We’re still learning about each other, y’see.”

 

A soft silence followed, filled with the hubbub of passing crowds and distant traffic. Yamato lowered his gaze to his feet; his hands still clasped on his lap, and slowly closed his eyes. A distant memory of red and black and white flickered in his mind, of a pale hand held out towards him with a smile – he opened his eyes and straightened up.

 

“Acquaintances.”

 

“Eh?” Hibiki blinked – and then smiled brightly. “Acquaintances? Sure thing,” he held out his hand, leaning forwards a fraction. “Hibiki Kuze, High School student.”

 

Yamato paused, but then reached out, clasping Hibiki’s hand with his gloved one, giving a brisk shake, “Yamato Hotsuin, High School student,” he paused, and then added, because it would be revealed sooner or later anyway; “heir to JP’s Corporation.”

 

Hibiki’s eyes fluttered in surprise, but he kept his composure. “You’re the son of JP’s Corporation?” A pause. “Cool. You must get mean discounts on their merchandise.”

 

“Not particularly. You pay full price, no matter your relation.”

 

“I see…” Hibiki shook his head minutely, and pulled his hand back, “Alright, one for one… heir to Byakko Company.”

 

It was Yamato’s turn to smother his surprise, and he looked the boy before him up and down. Byakko Company was a business that dealt with electrical appliances – it had grown from a small, family run business to an impressive empire within the past fifteen years. JP’s had even been planning to enter into a contract with them – heh, to think…

  

“I see,” Yamato let it pass him by though. “It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance…Hibiki.”

 

Hibiki’s smile was warm in response.

 

“Nice to meet you too, Yamato.”   


	2. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Hibiki views his and Yamato's slowly budding relationship - and how he realises that he's hopelessly smitten with him.

“You’ve never been to Sunshine City before?”

 

“No.”

 

Hibiki smiled at Yamato’s quiet response, and he playfully linked their elbows together as they stood before the tall commercial complex. Yamato didn’t pull away, and instead gave Hibiki a somewhat perplexed look, the bottom half of his face hidden behind the thick, pale blue scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked adorable, but Hibiki knew better than to say it aloud.

 

“Then allow me to be your tour guide for today,” he said. He found it odd that Yamato had never been to Sunshine City when he had lived in Tokyo for most, if not all, of his life, but Hibiki didn’t question it. It wasn’t important why he hadn’t gone before, only that he was going _now_ , with him. “We’ve got all sorts of things lined up, like the aquarium, museum, restaurants, shopping, and much, much more! Today’s gonna be a day of absolute fun!”

 

“I see,” Yamato said, only giving a small blink in response to Hibiki’s theatrical speech. A gust of wind blew by, and the both of them huddled close together against the chill that bit at them. It was reaching the end of winter, but the cold and snow was lingering for longer than usual – with this in mind, Hibiki tugged at Yamato’s elbow, leading him into the commercial complex.

 

“What do you want to start with first?” Hibiki asked, “I don’t mind letting you decide.”

 

“Hm…” Yamato didn’t immediately reply, but Hibiki didn’t mind, knowing that his friend was on the quiet side more often than not – well, he said ‘friend’, but Yamato was still stuck in calling them acquaintances. After knowing each other for a few months, one where Hibiki persistently and constantly coaxed Yamato out of his lonely little shell, Hibiki knew that they had overstepped that line long, long ago – but he continued to play along. He knew that it was just Yamato’s way of thinking he had some level of control over this relationship.

 

“Let’s just explore for now,” Yamato finally said. They were inside the complex now, and it opened up into a brightly lit shopping centre with trendy shops front and centre; it was also filled with young adults, and compared to outside, it was absolutely _sweltering_. Hibiki quickly undid his scarf with his free hand, letting it hang loose around his neck while unzipping his jacket.

 

“Okay,” he said, casting Yamato a glance. The younger boy didn’t look very affected by the change of temperature, still bundled up tightly in his scarf and thick winter coat. Hibiki swayed his hip, bumping it against Yamato’s. “Hey, aren’t you hot like that?”

 

“Hm?” Yamato focused on Hibiki – obviously, he had been busy staring at the brightly coloured shops with some level of curiosity. “No, I’m fine. Why?”

 

“Never mind,” Hibiki just dropped it – he had learned that Yamato didn’t really pay attention to things like temperature. He could stand in the cold in nothing but a thin shirt and look unaffected, and apparently he could stand in a sweltering hot shopping centre in thick winter clothing and not even begin to sweat. Ah, the mystery of Yamato Hotsuin only grows the more he learned about him.

 

“Wanna shop around for a bit?” Hibiki suggested after a brief pause, “I think I could do with getting some warmer clothes – all my jackets are kinda thin, so whenever I go out, I feel like I’m becoming a Bunnisicle.”

 

“Bunnisicle,” Yamato repeated, a hint of humour entering his tone. Hibiki felt a private surge of victory at the sight of the small, barely there smile on his friend’s lips. “Did you learn English for the sole purpose of making bad puns?”

 

“Yup,” Hibiki said bluntly, “Yes I did. C’mon, the English language is _primed_ for bad puns! You gotta admit it~”

 

Yamato didn’t reply, his attention snagged by something. It was a gaggle of stylishly dressed girls with brightly dyed hair, and they were openly giggling and whispering to each other as they walked past them, sending looks at Hibiki’s and Yamato’s linked elbows. They passed by quickly enough, and there was nothing malicious in their looks, but Yamato was still frowning after them.

 

“See a pretty girl that you liked?” Hibiki teased, trying to draw back Yamato’s attention.

 

Yamato’s nose immediately wrinkled at the implication, and promptly looked ahead, “They were too gaudy.”

 

“Too gaudy, huh?” Hibiki smirked playfully, and he tugged at Yamato’s arm, letting their shoulders press together, “So, does that mean you _do_ have a type? I’ve gotta say, my interest is peaked.”

 

“I do not have a ‘type’,” Yamato grumbled, looking more annoyed than embarrassed. “Don’t say such ridiculous things.”

 

“I dunno…” Hibiki mused. They were just walking aimlessly in the shopping centre, and Yamato didn’t look ready to go into any of the shops that they passed – which was a shame, since one or two Hibiki would’ve liked to have a walk around, but, this was _Yamato’s_ day out, and Hibiki could always come back tomorrow or something for some shopping. “Everyone has a type – even _I_ have a type.”

 

Yamato gave him a side-long glance, an amused noise leaving him, “I think you have multiple types, Hibiki…”

 

Hibiki very nearly choked on a laugh, surprised at Yamato’s dirty joke, “Wow, did not expect that from you – okay, so _maybe_ I have more than one type. But there is one that I love most of all…” The quiet, somewhat damaged types. It sounded bad though, no matter how he said it – he loved people who needed help and were vulnerable, because Hibiki loved being needed by someone, being valued by someone, since no one really wanted him when he was a kid – it was unhealthy, probably. But it wasn’t like Hibiki took advantage of damaged people – like, he wasn’t taking advantage of Yamato. Strictly friends. That was all.

 

“I doubt you care though,” Hibiki finished, giving a small, melodramatic sniff.

 

“I don’t,” Yamato said. He was looking away from Hibiki, and he stopped, pulling at his elbow to draw Hibiki to a halt as well. “Let’s sit down for a bit.”

 

Hibiki saw that his friend was looking at a small and stylish coffee shop. It had a few young adults sitting inside already, but didn’t seem too crowded. The interior was plush and dimly lit – private, which aligned more with Yamato’s tastes, who hated packed, crowded, and brightly lit places. It was a bit too warm in here to go for a coffee, but… well, going for a coffee in such a private little café with Yamato? Yes please. Very much yes please.

 

“Sure,” Hibiki said casually, and in they went into the café. A short trip to the till, and they were sitting in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, their coats and scarfs stripped and neatly set on the back of their chairs. It was rare for Hibiki to see Yamato in clothing that _wasn’t_ his smart school sweater and shirt, so he very nearly did a double take at seeing that Yamato was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater underneath his winter coat. It was very… fitting.

 

Yamato was holding his coffee elegantly with slim fingers, leaning on his elbows with the rim pressed lightly against his lips. He wasn’t drinking it just yet, just holding it there while his gaze swept over the interior of the café – he was always on alert, which struck Hibiki was odd at times. In shops, in cafes, in the street, in the local chippy that they visited after school frequently, he was always watching for _something_. Hibiki didn’t know if it was conditioned, or if he was just naturally cautious though, but still…

 

“Have you got anything planned for Christmas?” Hibiki asked suddenly. He didn’t really have much to do on that day – maybe go to a party with his parents, and then sneak out afterwards to hang out with Daichi and Io – so he could probably squeeze Yamato-time in there as well, if the other boy was able to.

 

“No,” Yamato’s answer was curt, and something in his expression closed. He took a sip from his coffee (black, no sugar), not even grimacing at the no doubt bitter taste. “I was planning on studying.”

 

“Studying… on Christmas?” Hibiki stared at him, a little bemused by that, “You’re truly dedicated, man.”

 

“It’s important to be prepared for the upcoming school year,” Yamato said simply, and he lowered his cup, staring down into its black contents, “And to secure my path into high ranking schools and universities.”

 

“Hm…” Hibiki had heard that before, and it brought up sorely familiar memories. He studied Yamato’s carefully blank expression, idly turning his cup of hot chocolate. A bit of cream was starting to dribble over the porcelain side, so he wiped it up with his finger and licked it off.

 

“So, what d’ya wanna do when you grow up?”

 

Yamato lifted his gaze to give him an odd look, “…I have told you, I’m the heir to JP’s Corporation-”

 

“No, not that,” Hibiki interrupted, “Let’s pretend you weren’t that. If you didn’t have to take over JP’s Corporation, what would you have liked to do for the rest of your life?”

 

There was a long pause, one where Yamato stared at him with a complicated expression – he always had this wondering look about him when Hibiki asked him things like that, and it made something in Hibiki’s heart hurt a little at the implication. He had a niggling suspicion that Yamato’s life was shunted securely onto tracks, and he probably had little to no freedom as to what direction he was going towards – but that imprisonment was something Yamato could free himself from. It wasn’t that he was weak but – he just needed someone to give him a little nudge, a helping hand – that’s all that Hibiki had needed.

 

“I never gave it much thought,” Yamato replied after a pause, “I suppose I would like to be a…astrophysicist.”

 

“An astrophysicist…” That’s right, when they first met, Yamato said he liked Astronomy. Hibiki smiled encouragingly, “So you’d want to study space all the time? I think that could be fun.”

 

“Hm…” Yamato almost seemed subdued, “Study it… perhaps. It interests me, and public interest is increasing regarding outer space, so a career in it could be quite fruitful.”

 

“You always look at things so practically,” Hibiki mused, “Well, not like that’s a _bad_ thing but… so anyway, you wanna do it because it interests you? Why not just do it, then?”

 

Yamato frowned, “Because I am to take over JP’s Corporation. You know this. I cannot simply turn away from my duty for some – whimsical fancy in another field.”

 

“Do you _want_ to do it, though?” Hibiki asked gently yet firmly, “It’s all well and good to do your duty, but if it makes you unhappy or trapped, then I don’t think it’s a bad thing to say ‘no’.”

 

“Is that what you have done?” Yamato asked, and there was something sharp in his tone. He looked uncomfortable, and Hibiki knew that they were pressing into a sensitive topic. Whether Yamato wanted to or not – probably not even he knew. If you grew up being told you _had_ to do something, it was hard to crawl yourself out from under that pressure to realise whether _you_ wanted to do it or not. “Have you said ‘no’ to your duty?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Hibiki said, his voice honest and open, “That kind of life is not for me. Sure, Dad threw a fit about it, and he’s still trying to get me to do it, but I don’t want to. My life doesn’t belong to him. It’s mine. Like your life is yours, and no one else’s.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, and Yamato gazed at him with an unreadable look. Hibiki couldn’t gauge what emotion his friend was feeling, his expression was so still and careful, and Hibiki leaned forwards slightly, reaching across the table until his fingers lightly touched against Yamato’s hand – it was tightly gripping his coffee cup. He settled his hand over the taut hand, rubbing his thumb over the sharp knuckles.

 

“Look, I’m not saying you _should_ ,” Hibiki murmured, “I’m saying that, maybe, you should just try and decide what’s good for you, and not your family. Your own happiness comes before anyone else’s – that’s what I think, anyway.”

 

“You’re very selfish, then,” Yamato replied, his voice very quiet. He didn’t pull his hand away though, and he didn’t look away from Hibiki. “Sometimes, there are things that are worth more than your own personal satisfaction.”

 

“It’s a company, not some world changing cause. There’re millions of them,” Hibiki reminded him, and he pulled his hand away, letting it rest on the table between them. “Just think about it, okay? If you really wanna take over it, then it’s best to do it with complete confidence, right?”  

 

“Hm.”

 

Hibiki let the subject drop after that, knowing that Yamato was very prickly when pushed too much. He leaned back in his chair, and frowned down at his drink – the cream had completely melted during his talk with Yamato. Goddammit.

 

“After this, I think we should go to the Aquarium,” Hibiki said, using his spoon to stir his hot chocolate, getting rid of the tiny lumps of cream still floating about there. “It’s really cool. It’s got this ‘Sunshine Aqua Ring’ that’s got sea lions, and a Jellyfish Tunnel – and it’s really quiet, too, unless you go to the performances, and it seems like something you’ll like.”

 

Yamato traced the rim of his coffee cup with a slim finger, his eyebrows lightly furrowed. “…I have never been to an Aquarium…” he muttered, partly to himself, then, louder, “Very well. We will do that.”

 

Hibiki smiled, “And then we can go to the Planetarium if you want. I haven’t been there before, so it’ll be something new for the both of us.”

 

Yamato visibly perked at the mention of the Planetarium, and Hibiki’s smile turned into a small grin. Personally, Hibiki didn’t see the appeal of space – to him it was empty and full of confusing physics – but seeing a bit of life come to Yamato’s eyes at the mention of it was so… Hibiki couldn’t describe it. His heart felt so warm witnessing it.

 

“We’ll even finish it off with a big ol’ meal at one of the restaurants,” Hibiki continued, “They’ve got Western style ones here, if you’re into that – or, ohhh maybe we can get some ice cream!”

 

There was a soft laugh, very quiet and short, but still a laugh. Hibiki jolted out of his daydreaming of creamy ice cream to see Yamato doing one of his small, barely there smiles. Another victory point!

 

“We’ll see how the Aquarium and Planetarium goes before deciding that far,” Yamato said, lifting his coffee to sip. Hibiki copied his motion, the taste of sweet chocolate rising his mood way up into the heavens.

 

“M’kay,” Hibiki hummed, setting his cup back down. “Let’s get going now then.”

 

“Someone’s eager,” Yamato murmured, but he didn’t seem to mind. He set his coffee down and rose up, slipping his coat off the back of the chair. Hibiki copied him, and soon they were wrapped up in their winter clothing, stepping back out into the bright shopping centre. Hibiki quickly linked their elbows up again.

 

“Onwards! To the romantic sea of our dreams~” Hibiki half-laughed, and beside him, Yamato only sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

 The Jellyfish Tunnel was so dreamlike, it was eerie. It was dimly lit, with pale colours cast from the refracted light, and it was muted – not silent, since gentle music played in the background, but there was no loud hubbub of chatter either. Really, the aquarium wasn’t all that busy, and that was just how Hibiki liked it.

 

There was a little pamphlet given at the entrance to the aquarium, filled with information about the various attractions and the timings for the shows. Yamato said that he wasn’t really interested in the shows, so that meant they could wander as slowly as they wanted without worrying about timings. Right now, they were in the Jellyfish Tunnel, an underwater walkway where they could see the bizarre creatures floating around them.

 

Some of them were pink – actually, quite a lot of them were pink, drifting in the pale turquoise gloom. The dim lights made everything have this sort of dreamlike quality to it that Hibiki found it difficult to talk – he felt breathless actually, and he stared upwards in constant wonder, Yamato occasionally having to pull on his elbow so he didn’t accidentally walk into someone.

 

“Isn’t this place so pretty?” Hibiki murmured, holding the open pamphlet close to his chest. He looked at Yamato, and the other boy was giving him an odd look – the eerie light made Yamato’s hair tinted a pale lilac.

 

“It’s quite aesthetically pleasing, I must admit,” Yamato said after a pause, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glanced upwards. A large jellyfish was lazily drifting overhead, its tendrils trailing behind it as its pale pink body rippled with the gentle current of its tank.

 

“So… pretty,” Hibiki chuckled, “You can just say that, y’know, instead of being all ‘aesthetically pleasing’.”

 

Yamato just shook his head, dropping his gaze and continuing forwards. His footsteps echoed around them, and Hibiki walked after him. Walking abreast of his friend, he looked down at the pamphlet in his hands, reading the section about the Jellyfish Tunnel.

 

“Huh, did you know that Jellyfish are ‘immortal’? How can they…?”

 

“They’re biologically immortal,” Yamato replied, “They cannot age, yet they can die due to disease and injury. So, if you keep a jellyfish isolated from things that would otherwise be harmful to it, it could live forever.”

 

“Isolated from harmful things…” Hibiki murmured, looking upwards at the jellyfish above them. “So… could these live forever? I mean, they must be pretty safe in here. No predators, fed regularly, looked after properly, I hope.”  

 

“If nothing ever happened to this building… probably,” Yamato replied. They slowly walked to a halt before an information plaque, Yamato giving it a quick glance over. It was just a bit more information about the jellyfish in general, as well as some of the different breeds found in Japanese waters. Hibiki still read it.

 

“It’d probably be boring, thinking on it,” Hibiki said randomly, “Like, if you lived somewhere where there was no shortage of food or threats or anything, wouldn’t you just be living a somewhat boring life?”

 

“Hm?” Yamato made a curious noise, “Are you saying that having your every need met is a bad thing?”

 

“Well, not _bad_ , but…” Hibiki shrugged his shoulders, toying with the pamphlet, “It probably gets boring. You don’t have to try for anything, really. Like, all you’d be doing is existing, and you get fed and protected for it. You’ve got nothing to strive for or to challenge you and make you feel happy about getting over something difficult,” Hibiki sighed, “I’m not explaining it very well, am I?”

 

“I understand what you mean,” Yamato said, and his gaze was unreadable – yet… Hibiki could detect a hint of approval there. “However, I think jellyfish in captivity differ from humans.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Hibiki could feel a hint of warmth crawl up his cheeks, “But – this just made me think about… like, stuff…” he trailed off into a mumble, and lifted the pamphlet up a bit to hide behind it. He heard Yamato chuckle quietly, and Hibiki felt a smile slowly curl his lips at the sound of it.

 

“Anyway!” Hibiki lowered the pamphlet, having regained his composure, “Would you ever wanna be immortal?”

 

Yamato seemed to think on it, “No, not really,” he finally answered. He didn’t elaborate on why, and his expression was so calm and sure that Hibiki couldn’t bring himself to ask why. Everyone would love to be immortal, right? That’s what he believed – living for as long as possible was everyone’s sole goal in life, because death was scary and unknown.

 

“I would,” Hibiki said, “Being able to live forever and doing all the things that I enjoy sounds amazing.”

 

“That is because you’re selfish,” Yamato sighed, but there was no condemnation in his tone, only exasperation, “Being able to eternally indulge in your personal gratification would be a paradise to you.”

 

“Nothing wrong in that,” Hibiki said shamelessly, neatly folding up the pamphlet and putting it into his coat’s pocket. “I like making sure other people enjoy themselves too, y’know – especially you, so I’m not completely selfish.”

 

“Hm,” Yamato’s expression deadpanned slightly when he stared at him, “That, I’m sorely aware of. You’re too meddlesome.”

 

“And you’re a jerk,” Hibiki returned, his smile playful as he bumped his shoulder against Yamato’s. “C’mon, let’s go and watch the sea lions.”

 

Yamato sighed again, but Hibiki could see right through that act – with a smile he curled his fingers around his friend’s wrist and pulled him along. His skin was warm, and it only took a casual shift for their hands to clasp. Yamato didn’t pull away.

 

* * *

 

 

It was just past five o’clock, and the entirety of Tokyo was alight with beautiful colours. It began to get dark after they left the Planetarium, and Hibiki managed to coax Yamato to go to the top of Sunshine 60 to watch the city’s lights. Hibiki had only been to the observatory once or twice, but never at night, since he never stayed out so long in Sunshine City before. He was glad that Yamato humoured him.

 

“Wo~ow…” Hibiki breathed, leaning against the railing as he stared out at the city. In the day time, once could see Mt Fuji from Sunshine 60 Observatory, but at night, the only visible things were the many glittering, gleaming lights of Tokyo City. They twinkled like jewels, all different colours – he could clearly tell where all the nightclubs and shops were just by looking at their hues.

 

Yamato was quiet beside him, but he seemed to be enjoying the view as well, gazing out over the city with a peaceful expression. There were quite a few people in the observatory, yet their chatter didn’t bother the pair of them. They had this quiet, sort of companionable silence between them. It was…

 

“Today was so much fun,” Hibiki murmured, standing up straight. Beside him, Yamato made a soft noise of agreement. There was music playing in the background, but under the muted hubbub, Hibiki couldn’t quite make it out clearly. “We should totally do this again.”

 

Yamato glanced at him, “Sunshine City?”

 

“No – well, yeah, maybe, but… go for a fun long day like this. We’ve rarely done it since we’ve met,” Hibiki played with the hem of his scarf, wrapping its tassels around his fingers. Since they’ve met, it’s been slow, careful baby steps. First they just went to the chippy after school, then it got promoted to cafés, then dining out, then going shopping on the weekend, and finally… this. Slowly, Hibiki managed to coax Yamato out of his frozen, harsh shell – kinda. He was still sharp and snappy and more than a little like a hedgehog, but Hibiki finally felt like he was opening that door he had his foot in for the past few months.

 

“…I wouldn’t be against it,” Yamato said after a pause, “You’ve made me curious about these types of things…”

 

Hibiki didn’t know what Yamato meant by that ambiguous statement, but he couldn’t suppress the goofy smile that was spreading across his face. “Really? I guess I’m gonna have to look at other places we can go to – next week, maybe?”

 

“It’s Christmas next week, isn’t it?”

 

“Ah, right…” Hibiki paused, hesitating, before pitching as casually as he could, “I wouldn’t… y’know, _mind_ going out on Christmas with you. I mean, it’s better than chilling out at home studying.”

 

Yamato tilted his head, and didn’t immediately answer. Hibiki awaited with baited breath – then… “If you don’t have other obligations, I wouldn’t mind. I…suppose I could indulge on that sort of day.”

 

“It’ll probably be at late afternoon, then,” Hibiki said, feeling like his heart was buoyed – he felt lighter than air…! “I think there’s a fireworks display- oh, uh, do you like fireworks?”

 

“I don’t dislike them,” Yamato replied, but judging by his expression, he wasn’t a massive fan of them either. Well, they were kind of loud…

 

“I’ll think of something else on top of that, then,” Hibiki mused, before shaking his head. He could think on that later. “Okay… so!” He clapped his hands together, turning away from the brilliant lights of Tokyo, “Shall we have one last coffee together before going home – oh, need me to walk you?”

 

“I’ll be fine getting home by myself,” Yamato muttered, “I think I will have to refuse the coffee as well. I’m feeling quite… drained.”

 

Hibiki hid his disappointment, smiling gently at his friend instead, “Fair enough, it was a long one. I’m gonna hang around here for a little bit longer then.”

 

Yamato nodded, and he turned away, walking away from the railing and Hibiki. He didn’t say goodbye – he never really did – and Hibiki watched until Yamato was out of view – disappearing into one of the nearby elevators. Ah…

 

Hibiki gripped onto the railing and leaned back, letting his weight hold him there as he stared out at the city, a wide, happy grin on his face. He was happy – absolutely giddy. Yamato Hotsuin was as friendly as a stray cat and equally difficult to befriend, and yet – Hibiki was slowly yet surely drawing closer to his kindred spirit.

 

He still remembered the day he had first seen Yamato, curled up on the park swing, almost blending in with the snow falling around him – the sight of him had struck Hibiki so hard he had felt like he’d been sucker punched. That’s why he’d been so nervous when approaching Yamato – he’d been absolutely breathless with wonder.

 

Hibiki pulled himself close to the railing, crossing his arms on it and resting on them. Man, Daichi was right. He was so hopeless – but it didn’t matter. Acquaintances or friends, Hibiki didn’t mind so long as he pulled Yamato up from that dangerous void he himself had almost fallen into years ago. It was probably selfish of him, but, eh, like Yamato said, he was a really selfish guy.

 

 He drew out his phone, and opening up the calendar app, he carefully marked the 25th of December, smiling gently as he read his little note.

 

_‘Romantic Date with Snow: let’s make him swoon!’_


	3. Interlude: Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The television provided noise.

_“…promise…never…I will… don’t…”_

 

The television burbled softly in the darkness of the living room, so quiet that the words emitting from it were low and indistinct. Its soft glow shone on the nearby coffee table, the books ordered neatly on its surface revealed as a mere silhouette. Past the television’s insistent whispering, the loud tick of a clock echoed throughout the dark apartment, and it was a combination of these things that eventually roused Yamato.

 

The apartment was cold, that was the first thing he was aware of. The second was that his arm was numb.

 

He slowly sat up. He had been lying on the floor beside the coffee table, and he stared blankly at the television, his vision blurred from sleep. The chill was seeping right through his thin school shirt, and after a long moment of self-encouragement, Yamato rose to his feet and picked his way through the dark living room. He kicked the armchair by accident at one point, and nearly stumbled into the wall, but he managed to locate the light switch without killing himself.

 

Yamato squinted against the bright flare of light, and he rubbed his eyes to banish the throbbing ache behind them. What time was it…?

 

He checked his watch. It was three in the morning. Ah.

 

He had to ‘get up’ for school in three hours.

 

The television continued to whisper, and Yamato stared vaguely at it in an uncomprehending manner. It looked like some sort of anime was playing, although he couldn’t make sense of what was going on. He should probably iron his uniform. He had slept in it – by curling up on the floor like some sort of-

 

He slid down the wall next to the light switch and sat there for a long moment, suddenly overcome with a tiredness that just sapped the energy from his legs. He didn’t want to move.

 

The television continued to murmur;

 

_“I promise I will never leave you-!”_

 

* * *

 

 

“So, what’s that boy then?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Y’know… the one that keeps following you around after school like he’s your dog or something.”

 

Yamato didn’t immediately reply, although he did close his book. Sitting at his desk during break times tended to let him be left well enough alone, as the other students had long since learned he had no interest in their lives. He was avoided, and that was how he liked it – until something rose up to snag the students’ interest in him, and that always tended to be _gossip_.

 

Standing beside his desk was Sato – she was a young girl that was a daughter of a prominent politician. She was charismatic and sly, and Yamato loathed her very existence. She represented everything he hated about modern society – selfish and lazy and relied on her family’s influence, rather than her own abilities, despite possessing a considerable amount of intelligence herself. She squandered it, and that was insulting.

 

Yamato made no secret on how he disliked her, and she hated him in turn, if only because he crushed her in exam after exam without even trying.  

 

 “Go away,” he told her, his face one of utter impassiveness. Sato just smirked down at him and flipped her long dark hair. She looked like a traditional Japanese beauty, and it made her popular with most of the boys that went to this school. It irritated him.

 

“Looks like I found a crack in you,” she boasted, “I can tell. I saw you two in Shibuya once. You were _holding hands_.”

 

“It was cold,” Yamato said, because that was the reasoning Hibiki had given him. He looked past Sato, and could see her flunkies sitting at her desk on the other side of the room, watching them like hawks. Possibly waiting for a rise. Well, they were going to be disappointed, because Yamato and Hibiki were acquaintances, so he cared not for whatever they said about him. He was strange and exhausting and sometimes more than a little dim in what he said, so anything they said about him would probably be true.

 

“Cold?” Sato scoffed, settling her hands on her hips, “ _Really_. It was cold so you held hands with some loser guy? You do realise he’s probably just following you around because he wants to get into your pants, right? Those are the worst kind of guys.”

 

Yamato stared steadily at her, mouth set in a thin line. Sato looked victorious, as if she had found some mortal weakness, and Yamato felt irrationally annoyed then. He did not have a good sleep last night, and having this so early in the morning just made – something rise in him. Normally he didn’t feel much when she had one of her ridiculous challenges, since she was complete trash in his eyes, and therefore not worth the effort, but today-

 

Something about her dug right under his skin.

 

“Unless,” Sato’s eyes gleamed, and she took a small step forwards, and her hair was in direct reach then, Yamato realised, although why such a thought fluttered through his mind he didn’t- “You _want_ him to follow you around? Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe _you’re_ the one following _him_ around, and he’s just letting it because he pities you or something!”

 

“…are you done?” Yamato muttered, “I know you are desperate for any inane gossip to entertain you, but this is pathetic.”

 

Sato opened her mouth, probably to continue jabbering stupidly, but Yamato picked his book up and opened it, reading it without paying her any further attention. He heard her let out a growl, but she said nothing more. He heard her shoes click against the floor, and it was only when the whispering started on the other side of the room that Yamato realised he had been gripping his book so tightly he was bending it roughly at the spine.

 

He hated people.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Yamato didn’t immediately reply, just watching the rain hit the pavement. He and Hibiki had met up at Shibuya after school, which was quickly becoming habit for them both, but a sudden shower had taken them both by surprise. They were standing under the overhang of a convenience store, waiting for the rain to stop – and Yamato could see Hibiki checking his watch every so often, as if impatient about something. He probably needed to meet Shijima somewhere.

 

 _‘Maybe_ you’re _the one following_ him _around, and he’s just letting it because he pities you!’_

 

“…I’m fine,” Yamato replied. A gust of wind blew past, and he watched as it nearly yanked an umbrella from a passing businessman’s hand. “Just tired.”

 

“Not enough sleep last night?” Hibiki guessed, and Yamato heard movement beside him, then a pressure against his shoulder. Hibiki was leaning in close to him, frowning as he studied his face – getting well into his personal space. Yamato pushed his hand against his chest until Hibiki was at a more comfortable distance.

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

“Ahah, sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

 

An awkward silence fell, and again, Hibiki checked his watch, this time with a quiet sigh. Abruptly, Yamato felt something… spike inside of him. Something sharp and angry and – he moodily crammed his hands into his pockets, confused at the sudden emotion.

 

“If you need to be somewhere else, don’t let me keep you,” Yamato said coolly.

 

“Ah- no! I was just-” Hibiki quickly pulled his sleeve down to hide his watch from view, “Just… uh, I just wanted us to go somewhere, but…”

 

Yamato stared at him dully.

 

Hibiki’s nervous expression faded, and again, he looked concerned. Yamato wondered what he was seeing for him to fret so often today. Yamato was beginning to feel smothered – by him and by overly curious, malicious one-sided rivals, and – sleeping on the floor. Yes, the floor was smothering him too, even if that made little to no sense.

 

“…hey,” then the concerned look was gone, and Hibiki was smiling at him as he usually did – brightly and genuinely. “You ever wanna do a sleepover?”

 

“A… sleepover?”

 

“Yeah,” Hibiki pressed his fingers together, his expression becoming devious, “Y’know, I can sleep ‘round your house or you sleep in mine or something and have some fun together. Nothing too exciting, of course. It’s just… it must get boring being in that apartment by yourself every day.”

 

Staying overnight, alone, with Hibiki?

 

Something inside of Yamato was hesitant about the idea. He liked Hibiki’s company well enough, but, visiting each other’s homes and staying the night seemed like several steps higher than an acquaintanceship. There was also the matter of… no, he shouldn’t take Sato’s words to heart. Her words were worth less than dirt to him, and it was a simple matter of principle to ignore everything that came out of her mouth.

 

“Perhaps some other time.”

 

“Alright,” Hibiki dropped it easily, backing off as quickly as he pushed the idea on him, “Ah, this rain isn’t letting up at _all_ …”

 

“…you can leave if you really want to,” Yamato said again, but this time he didn’t feel mad about it. He couldn’t understand his emotions recently, and he knew Hibiki was the cause of it. It was so…so…

 

“No, I don’t mind staying here,” Hibiki said, and he suddenly extended his hand, catching Yamato’s fingers and curling his own around them. They were warm. “Sorry, my hand’s cold.”

 

“It’s fine,” Yamato said. However.

 

He felt doubt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was one in the morning, and Yamato couldn’t sleep.

 

The television was on again, on some sort of war documentary, and he had long since finished his essay needed for tomorrow. He was sitting at the coffee table, reading a book open on his lap, but he was forgetting what he was reading as soon as he moved onto the next word. He really didn’t even know what the book was honestly about, whether it was fiction or non-fiction.

 

The apartment was cold again.

 

He closed the book, realising it was a futile endeavour, and stared at the television. Its volume was on low, yet the droning, monotonous voice practically blared in the otherwise silent apartment. In fact, it was so quiet he could hear the next door neighbours having a heated argument again. The walls were thin though.

 

Yamato got up after sitting there for five minutes, and moved over to the light switch. He turned it off, plunging the room into darkness, with the small television only offering a dim enough light to barely see by. He moved back to the coffee table, and picked up the remote, turning the volume up until it sounded like it was shouting in the dark living room, drowning out the argument next door.

 

Then Yamato put the remote down, sat on the floor – and lied down on his side. It was uncomfortable, and cold, and he couldn’t even see anything but he just stayed there until his eyelids felt heavy and he just felt too drained to move in general.

 

The droning, monotonous voice chased him into sleep, and he dreamt of drowning in nothing. 


	4. You Can (Not) Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As empathetic and socially savvy Hibiki was, even he could fuck up when just desperately wanting to help.

Hibiki shook the rain off of his coat as he stepped into the apartment complex, blinking some of the water out of his eyes when it dripped down from his wet-flattened hair. A rainstorm had caught him completely by surprise, and while his coat was waterproof, since the skies had been looking a little grey that morning, he was more prepared for light rain or drizzle, rather than a sudden biblical downpour from the heavens. Even as he stood in the lobby, a small puddle was beginning to form at his feet.

 

Ah, the things he did for love.

 

Scraping his fingers through his hair, trying to restore some of its charming curls, he strode over to the stairs near the elevator. He climbed the short stairs upwards to the third floor and went down the corridor, leaving wet footprints in his wake. While the interior of the building was warm, Hibiki still couldn’t help but shiver a little from the wet clothes, and he _really_ hoped that this was going to work, otherwise he was going to have to trudge back in the pouring rain and soaked clothing and probably die of pneumonia as a result.

 

Hibiki was only half way down the corridor when a door further down suddenly flung open, a woman storming out of it while lugging a large suitcase behind her. Her hair was long and bright blonde, and her pale face was flushed with anger, cheeks wet with tears as she made half-panting, half-sobbing noises as she made her way down the corridor. Hibiki, so stunned by the sight, stopped right in the middle of it, before he was distracted by loud, obnoxious shouting coming from behind the fast approaching woman.

 

“Hey! _Hey_! Who said you could leave!?”

 

“Fuck off!” The woman yelled, her voice bordering on shrill as she flung the poisonous words over her shoulder. They carried a tint of some sort of European accent; “I’m sick of it- sick of _you_! I don’t need you anymore! I can live without you!”

 

Hibiki hastily sidestepped when the woman barged past him, the swinging suitcase almost smacking him in the thigh, and he looked from the woman’s retreating back down the hallway, where a young man in loose trousers stood at the open doorway, his mouth slightly agape. The young man suddenly overcame his daze, however, and propelled into motion, running past Hibiki and down the corridor after the woman – leaving him standing in an empty corridor with an air of bemusement.

 

Well, that had been something.

 

Hibiki felt some concern about what he had witnessed, but when he lingered for a full minute, he didn’t hear any suspicious sounding screaming or shouting. Reluctantly, he turned away and walked back down the corridor, pausing only to close the door that had been left open. Whether the guy had his keys or not… better not leave it open like that in case some thief walked past before he got back.

 

His destination was right next door, and Hibiki hovered before it, smoothing down his appearance. He was still soaking wet, but at least he wasn’t dripping water everywhere anymore, and once he was satisfied that he was going to look as dignified as possible – raised his hand and knocked on the door.

 

For a long moment, there was no answer, and Hibiki began to worry that he wasn’t in when – he heard the scratch of the lock and chain, the door opening a fraction for Hibiki to see Yamato’s pale face staring at him.

 

“Hey,” Hibiki greeted, putting on his best smile, “How’s it going?”

 

There was a pause, and then Yamato opened the door wider, his expression set in a small frown. It was a Sunday, so it was one of the rare times Hibiki got to see him in casual clothing. Even though it was edging into the spring and the apartment complex was quite hot, Yamato was still wearing a turtleneck sweater with long sleeves, his hands encased in pale gloves. His blood must be ice to withstand that.

 

“What are you doing here?” Yamato asked, his tone even, “You didn’t call about an outing.”

 

“Thought I’d just pop round,” Hibiki said, “As a nice surprise on a Sunday morning~”

 

Yamato stared at him, and then slowly looked him up and down. “…in the pouring rain?”

 

“It – started raining on the way here,” Hibiki admitted sheepishly, “Wasn’t prepared for it.”

 

“Hm,” Yamato’s stare only grew more intense, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Hibiki’s face for a long, uncomfortably awkward moment. Hibiki must’ve passed some sort of test, however, as Yamato pushed the door wider, and stepped aside. “You may stay long enough to dry off – but no longer. Take off your coat and shoes when you step inside.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Hibiki chirped, hurriedly stepping inside and doing as he was told. His coat was hung up, and his shoes were set neatly on the shoe rack, leaving him in his own sweater and jeans. This was the first time Hibiki would move past Yamato’s front door, and he found himself excited with curiosity. How would the mysterious Yamato Hotsuin’s home be like? Would it be clean? Or would it be surprisingly messy? Would he have pictures up? Would he have quirky, fun little knick-knacks to shake up the profile Hibiki had so far built up of him?

 

As Hibiki allowed these questions to bounce around his skull, Yamato turned away and walked down the short hallway. There were three doors: one led into what Hibiki could see to be the living-room, one door led into a small closet, and the other led into a bathroom. Yamato directed him into the bathroom.

 

“Hang your clothes over the bath. I will get you something to change into.”

 

Change into? Wait, Hibiki would wear _Yamato’s_ clothes? The boy was tall for his age, although Hibiki still had a few inches on him, so he could quite easily squeeze into his clothes, but… he could feel his face warming up for a reason he couldn’t quite understand, and Yamato swiftly left, leaving him alone in the bathroom.

 

“Ah…well, his clothes are stylish,” Hibiki murmured to himself, and started to strip off. The clothes were so wet they clung to him like a second skin, and getting his jeans off was like performing complex heart surgery, with how intricate his extraction was from them. He got them off, however, and hung them over the bath, leaving him in just his boxers. They were wet as well, but Hibiki was hesitant to take them off. He doubted Yamato would give him a pair of boxers to wear, and he’d feel sort of weird sitting in his friend’s house completely commando.

 

“Are you done?”

 

“ _Ah-_!”

 

Hibiki almost leapt onto the ceiling when Yamato’s bored voice spoke behind him. He spun around, immediately crossing his arms over his chest as if protecting his modesty (he was just painfully aware that the cold was making his nipples stick out, and for some reason he was inexplicably embarrassed about it), blinking rapidly at Yamato standing at the bathroom’s open doorway.

 

“Y…Yamato!” Hibiki said, shooting for a casual tone and failing miserably. He cleared his throat and straightened up, arms still crossed over his bare chest. “Uhm, you startled me…”

 

“That much is obvious,” Yamato said, and the corner of his mouth was tilted upwards a fraction – almost a smile. Hibiki felt his embarrassment immediately evaporate at that. A smile…! Always a rarity nowadays, since Yamato’s mood had taken a permanent downturn since the new school year started. “Here – change into these.”

 

Yamato held out a bundle in his arms – a simple dark grey shirt and black trousers. Nothing exciting, but they looked like they’d be alright to sit around in for a few hours. Hibiki took them gratefully, and held them to his chest while staring expectantly at Yamato. His friend just stared back at him blankly.

 

“…uh,” Hibiki smiled awkwardly, “Do you wanna watch me change?”

 

Yamato blinked, “No- ah,” he gave himself a little shake, “Come into the living room once you are done,” he said, and quickly left, closing the door behind him as well. Hibiki couldn’t help but chuckle a little, finding it cute.

 

It didn’t take him long to get change, even if he felt a bit odd dressed in such dark clothing, and exited the bathroom to the living room. It was a simple room – the walls were white, with a single bookshelf wedged in the corner, a television set atop of some form of cabinet, a sofa pressed against the opposite wall, and an old, battered looking kotatsu with star designs on its blanket. It looked surprisingly childish, considering how serious Yamato was, but Hibiki didn’t comment on it, instead looking at Yamato who was sitting at the kotatsu, staring at the television without really watching it.

 

“Are you done?” Yamato asked abruptly, his gaze shifting from the television to Hibiki.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Hibiki smiled, “Thanks. Sooo…” he trailed off, walking over to the kotatsu and sitting down beside Yamato. “This is your place, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Yamato’s answer was short and abrupt, and his gaze shifted back to the television. Hibiki took this to scrutinise the living room even closer – there wasn’t anything else in it, though. There were no pictures or decorations adorned on the blank walls, no knick-knacks on the bookshelf or kotatsu, nothing… homely about it. It looked empty and cold, and even though Hibiki was in dry clothing and a warm building, a shiver still went down at his spine.

 

“Looks sorta… bland,” Hibiki ventured hesitantly, “Don’t you have any pictures or something?”

 

“No,” Yamato’s expression became stony, “I don’t think them necessary to have on display.”

 

Realising he had carelessly stepped on a sensitive subject, Hibiki backtracked gently; “That’s fine. Less unnecessary clutter and all that,” he swiftly changed the subject, “So, what do you do for fun in here?”

 

“Fun?” Yamato’s dark expression eased into blankness once more, although his eyebrows were still furrowed a little, “…I do my work, and once that is done, I read or watch television.”

 

…that was it?

 

“Oh, uh, what do you watch? I didn’t peg you as having the patience for television,” Hibiki said, his voice brightening. Indeed, Yamato didn’t seem like the type to just sit in front of the television all day, unless he watched documentaries. That seemed more like him.

 

Yamato just shrugged at the question, his gaze sliding towards the television set once more, “I don’t watch anything, really. It’s only on for the noise.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Hibiki felt something like worry slide into his stomach at that, and he stared at Yamato closely. His friend was just looking at the television, not watching it, his eyes not tracking the movement of the people on the screen. The volume on the television was somewhat low as well, its muttering and murmuring barely intelligible. It looked to be some sort of car show, and there didn’t seem to be the slightest ounce of interest in Yamato’s face as it played.

 

The living room seemed even emptier then, with only the muttering of the television and the pitter patter of rain hitting the window as the only noise. The blank walls loomed and appeared oppressive, and the only splash of colour in such a monotone room was the star patterned kotatsu blanket. They appeared to be constellations, each one labelled with silver thread against navy blue, the colours faded from age.

 

_‘I like astronomy.’_

 

Maybe he should get Yamato some star posters or something to put on his walls, Hibiki thought to himself, if only to breathe a bit of life into the room. He didn’t like how empty and cold this apartment seemed, how Yamato just sat there with a blank sort of look on his face not really doing anything. If this was how he spent his evenings when Hibiki didn’t drag him out… it just wasn’t right. He felt bad for judging his friend’s, er, ‘hobby’ so harshly but – something struck him at a visceral level about this whole thing. It was wrong.

 

Sudden, muffled shouting drew him out of his worried thoughts, and he turned his head at the far wall. It was next door – the apartment where that woman and man had been arguing earlier. The walls muffled the sounds enough that their words were unintelligible, but it was still loud. It sounded like they were screaming at each other – why did the woman go back only to get into another fight?

 

In what appeared to be an automatic move, Yamato picked up the television remote and put the volume up, drowning the noise out, and then set it back down. He continued to watch the television then, without looking at Hibiki or even commentating on the screaming match happening next door. It looked like he was far too used to it.

 

Hibiki really didn’t like this. The worry was turning into a restless sort of anxiety, now, and Hibiki wanted to leap up, wave his hands and – somehow make everything better. This place was bad, this place was so bad Hibiki felt nervous just sitting here – and the fact that Yamato lived here _all by himself_ made the anxiety gnawing at his stomach even worse.

 

“Hey,” Hibiki began, having to raise his voice a little to be heard over the television, “You wanna go somewhere? It’s a bit noisy here.”

 

Yamato looked at him then, one eyebrow slightly raised, “It’s raining.”

 

“Yeah, but – c’mon, haven’t you ever played puddle wars?” Hibiki asked slyly, giving a mischievous smile at his friend while silently wishing for him to agree. “See who can get the other wetter by only using puddles as their weapons. Anything goes!”

 

“…it sounds troublesome.”

 

“It sounds _fun_ ,” Hibiki countered, “It’s not like you have anything productive to do.”

 

Yamato began to frown, “…I don’t exactly relish getting a cold.”

 

Man, he was one tough cookie.

 

“How about a trip to a café, then?” Hibiki suggested, switching tracks immediately, “Some hot chocolate, watching the rain by the window, maybe even going for a little bit of shopping…?”

 

“…” Yamato hesitated, and then the shouting from next door grew even louder, able to be heard over the television. That seemed to solidify his decision. “Very well. We can go to the café.”

 

Hibiki smiled, mostly in relief, and rose up to his feet. “Awesome. Let’s go, then. I’ll get changed into my wet stuff.”

 

It took longer than Hibiki liked for them to get out of that apartment, but by the time they did, ten minutes had passed, with Yamato bundled up in a thick, waterproof coat and Hibiki in his already drenched one. As Yamato locked up, the shouting was even clearer in the hallway, and Hibiki was glad when they walked away from it, the angry voices growing quieter the further away they went.

 

“…does it bother you at all?” Hibiki asked when they were on the stairs.

 

“No. It’s just annoying,” Yamato replied, his tone dismissive, “Despite being unhappy with one another, they refuse to part ways. It makes no sense, and they cause everyone to suffer around them.”

 

Hibiki privately agreed, but he understood that it wasn’t as simple as Yamato made it out to be. They probably hated each other, but they probably still needed each other in a fucked up sort of way. Emotions and love and hate were all jumbled up in one massive confusing mess, and it wasn’t easy to see things in straight forward, logical ways regarding them… that was what Hibiki had observed in his life so far. But what did he know? He was only fifteen.

 

“There’s probably a reason why they stay together despite hating each other…” Hibiki murmured. Yamato didn’t answer.

 

They reached the apartment complex lobby in silence, and Hibiki slipped his hands into his pockets as they approached the door. The rain had let up some since Hibiki had arrived, and it was now a light drizzle, giving the street outside a misty look.

 

“Ah, that’s not bad!” Hibiki said cheerily, his low mood rising at the turn in luck. He pushed the door open, stepping out onto the street. The traffic was beginning to pick up now that it was inching into the afternoon, and Hibiki turned, automatically reaching out to grasp onto Yamato’s hand.

 

He was still wearing those gloves – he’d been putting them on a lot recently.

 

“Let’s see if we can beat the crowd there. You ready?”

 

Yamato nodded slowly, and Hibiki felt his fingers lightly curl around his own. He couldn’t help but smile, and again, he felt so happy that he managed to draw his friend out of that lonely apartment. If Hibiki had to stay there… he probably would’ve gone insane after a week.

 

But there was a horrible suspicion beginning to brew inside of him – how he had first met Yamato, how he acted, how his home was like, how… it was really awful, though, so Hibiki put it out of mind, even if he knew it was the wrong thing to do. He didn’t know how to handle it, although he was determined to somehow help his friend before it became anything… dangerous.

 

…however a fifteen year old high school student could help.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they had reached the café, the rain had moved on from drizzling to pouring once more, the sky darkening until it could be easily mistaken for the evening, and not eleven in the morning. Hibiki could feel his fringe plastering against his forehead, and he slicked it back as they stepped under the overhang of the café, knowing that his hair was going to frizz horribly by the time he went to bed.

 

“I felt like we had to swim here,” Hibiki grumbled, glancing at his friend. He couldn’t help the sudden smile that curled his lips when he caught sight of what the rain had done to him. For once, Yamato’s hair was flat, the little tuft on the back of his head temporarily tamed, almost making him seem like an entirely different person.

 

“We should have brought an umbrella,” Yamato said, not looking bothered in the slightest by the state of his hair. Water was dripping copiously from long locks, and Hibiki found himself staring when his friend scraped the wet hair back from his face with gloved fingers, the younger boy’s eyes averted to look through the glass door of the café. The rain somehow seemed to accentuate the sharp angles of Yamato’s face, his cheeks slightly hollow and his skin almost unhealthily pale.

 

He looked fragile.

 

“Hibiki?” Yamato was looking at him now, a small frown on his face as he lowered his fingers from where he tucked a long piece of hair behind his ear.

 

“Er, yeah,” Hibiki shook himself out of the odd daze that overtook him. “Sorry, my mind just went blank – let’s go in!”

 

Hibiki pushed the glass door open, feeling a bit confused about his brain fart, but put it out of mind as he stepped inside. It wasn’t that full, thankfully, and most of the people inside seemed to be people on their late morning work-break. Most high school students would stay inside, or go elsewhere, in this kind of weather.

 

“You go snag us a seat, and I’ll get us our drinks. The usual, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They parted ways, and after battling with the sleepy-eyed barista who was looking more at the clock than what she was meant to be doing, Hibiki had both of their drinks in hands as he made his way over to where Yamato had sat. In the corner, as expected, as far away as possible from everyone else.

 

“Here we go~ hot chocolate for us both,” Hibiki said cheerily, sitting down as he set the drinks down. His chair creaked a little when he sat on it, wobbling on uneven legs, but he didn’t voice a complaint, unzipping his drenched coat and letting it hang over the sides of his seat. May as well try to dry off a little in here.

 

Yamato murmured a ‘thank you’, and held his drink close to himself, his eyes staring off into the café. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, just in a vague direction, and it reminded Hibiki unpleasantly of his stare back in his apartment.

 

“…” Hibiki idly turned his cup in slow circles. Since the new school year started in the spring, Yamato had become so closed off – well, more so than usual. It was almost as if all the progress Hibiki had made over the past four months had evaporated into thin air. Something must have happened to make him so skittish, but for the life of him, Hibiki couldn’t figure out what. Their little Christmas ‘date’ had gone well, and Yamato had actually been quite happy to see him on the weeks that followed. Then, when they went back to school after the New Year’s holiday, he suddenly became… _edgy_ and careful, especially if they were in Shibuya.

 

So, did something happen at school…?

 

Hibiki didn’t know much about Yamato’s school-life. He knew that his friend was bored with the material being taught since he was leagues ahead of the curriculum, but he had never mentioned anyone that bullied him or made his life difficult. From what little Yamato told him, everyone just kept distant from him, which was how he liked it.

 

What a mystery…

 

Hibiki scooped some of the whipped cream off the top of his drink, and sucked it off his finger. Hmmm, how to tackle this, then? He knew he could be too meddlesome, and maybe a bit too prying where Yamato was concerned, but – he was worried. He admitted that he was really, really, worried, because, everything about his friend just triggered a strange sort of anxiety in him to help but – he didn’t know how. He was frightened of making everything worse.

 

“So, um, how’s the new school year been for you?” Hibiki asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

 

“Fine,” Yamato’s gaze fixed back on him, and there was no sign of tension in his expression or voice. Hibiki studied him closely.

 

“Fine? No stress or anything?” Hibiki pressed as carefully as he could, “It’s just that you seem a little… drained, lately.”

 

“I am just physically tired. I haven’t been able to sleep well recently,” Yamato said, and his lips thinned slightly, his posture shifting towards defensive. Hibiki set his palms flat on the table, and leaned back in his seat, trying to ease the sudden tension between them.

 

Tired. How many times had Hibiki heard that from Yamato in the past few weeks? ‘I’m fine, I’m just tired’, ‘Didn’t have enough sleep last night, that’s all’, ‘I’m alright, just a little exhausted’, and etcetera and etcetera. Yamato certainly looked tired – those bruises under his eyes were beginning to look a little too stark for his liking – but, again, that anxious, worried feeling curdled in his stomach. That just… wasn’t it.

 

“…you haven’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks,” Hibiki said neutrally, although he softened his probing words with a gentle smile, “If something’s troubling you, Yamato, you can talk about it to me if you want to.”

 

Yamato just stared at him with an unreadable look for a long moment. Hibiki held the stare, his smile turning imploring, wishing with every ounce of his being for Yamato to reveal whatever it was that was making him like this. A part of him doubted his friend would take the invitation, however. He knew it was all tangled up in all the other issues Yamato had that Hibiki had to guess and figure out privately, than getting from the boy himself.

 

Sadly, Hibiki’s prediction proved true. “Nothing is troubling me,” Yamato said quietly, “The change in seasons always disrupt my sleeping patterns. It is nothing to be concerned over.”

 

…it was the worst lie Yamato had ever uttered to him yet.

 

The good thing about Yamato was that he was a poor liar. He was good at lying through omission, but if he had to think up a solid lie that directly contradicted the truth… he was poor at it. His words always sounded unconvincing and hollow, as if he was unused to it, or found it uncomfortable to make it sound sincere, and right now… the discord in Yamato’s voice was like a scream in an empty forest. Loud and clear, but with no one around to hear it.

 

Well, except Hibiki. _He_ heard it, and he sure as hell was running to help.

 

“I’d normally let you lie to me about some stuff,” Hibiki said bluntly, and he saw Yamato’s shoulders tighten, “But I’m going to be firm with you now, because I’m worried about you, alright?”

 

Yamato said nothing. The look he gave almost appeared betrayed at not being believed, but Hibiki pushed aside any hesitance that threatened to bubble up. No. There was a time for being gentle and accommodating, and there was a time to be firm and uncompromising. It made him feel horrible, but, Hibiki was going to have to drag Yamato right out of his comfort zone kicking and screaming.

 

“You sit by yourself in an empty apartment doing nothing for hours on end, you have difficulty sleeping, you act withdrawn and spacy in public, you show a lack of concern about your wellbeing - I found you just sitting in the middle of a park in light clothing at sub-zero temperatures for God’s sake – and you reject almost every bit of human contact that you have,” Hibiki kept his voice even and neutral, ignoring the twisting in his stomach as Yamato’s expression became more and more blank with each word that came out of his mouth. “You-”

 

Hibiki paused here, because he knew this was not exactly a light accusation he was going to toss out here. He chewed his bottom lip briefly, suddenly wondering if this was the right path to take – months, it had taken to gain what little trust Yamato was willing to part with, but dragging everything out like this seemed like it was pushing too hard, too soon. Hibiki shook the doubt out of him. No… no, something had to be said. Hibiki felt uneasy letting this continue for any longer than it had to. He just had this paranoia something horrible would happen if he let it lie.

 

“Yamato,” Hibiki’s tone became soft, “Are you depressed?”

 

 “No.”

 

The reply was quick. Yamato’s jaw was clenched, his posture rigid, but his eyes were averted down to the table. There was an edge of anger to his hard stare at the table, but Hibiki didn’t know if it was directed at him, or Yamato himself.

 

“I am not depressed,” Yamato continued after a tense pause. He raised his eyes, gazing at Hibiki fiercely. It was the first time he had seen him even somewhat impassioned about something, “I am not weak enough to succumb to such a – pathetic state. I live in the way I find most comfortable, not because of anything as ridiculous as _depression_.”

 

“It isn’t weak or pathetic,” Hibiki immediately countered, “Look, Yamato,” he paused, making a frustrated noise. He felt like he was handling a live bomb, “All I ask is for you to answer some questions for me, okay? After that we can just drop this and pretend it never happened.”

 

Yamato tossed his head in agitation, but he remained seated, his arms crossed over his chest. Hibiki could see that his fingers were curled into the sleeves of his sweater, and if the gloves weren’t covering them, he knew those knuckles would be white. Hibiki took the stony silence as acceptance.

 

“Okay…” Hibiki took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. His heart was going crazy… “How many hours a night do you sleep?”

 

Yamato glowered at him, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to reply at all, then; “It depends. Some nights I cannot sleep from the onset, others I wake in the early hours of the morning, and sleep fitfully thereafter.”

 

Alright, at least he was answering questions. “Okay, so you’ve got some insomnia going on there,” one tick in the checkbox, “How much do you eat?”

 

“That question is inappropriate.”

 

Hibiki rolled with the cutting words and let it slide without comment. Looking back at their ‘dates’, Yamato ate quite a bit. At the very least, he liked junk food when Hibiki bought it, and his main way of hanging out was either at noodle bars or cafes. So, Hibiki could safely assume that Yamato ate regularly – but he seemed to shed weight like an extreme dieter. Hibiki didn’t need a set of scales to know that Yamato was probably vastly underweight for his age and height. Why was that…?

 

“Okay,” Hibiki took a deep breath, “You said that all you do at home is read a book, or watch the television set – or, um, rather, have it on for noise while you just sit there staring at it. Does that sound… healthy, to you?”

 

“People have strange ways of passing time,” Yamato said sharply, “How is staring at a television set any different to putting together a puzzle or cloud watching?”

 

 _Because with puzzles and cloud watching, you’re engaging your brain a little and getting enjoyment out of it_ , Hibiki thought privately, “So you say you enjoy doing that?”

 

“It passes the time.”

 

Hibiki sighed. He had a feeling they would just fly in circles with that particular line of questioning. Despite Yamato’s belligerent semi-cooperation, his suspicions were just getting more and more solid. He knew from the moment he saw his friend in the park that he was stuck in that poisonous rut of emptiness and loneliness, and, while Hibiki understood all those negative, soul-sucking emotions, since he had been trapped in that same place once upon a time, he realised now that Yamato’s case was a little… different.

 

Dangerously different.   

 

“Yamato,” Hibiki reached out across the table, settling his hand before his friend in a silent invitation. Yamato just stared at it tensely, still gripping his upper arms protectively. “I’m not trying to attack you or anything, okay? I’m just really worried about you. I want to help.”

 

“I don’t want it.”

 

Hibiki felt a bit wounded from the cold rejection, but didn’t pull his hand away. He even managed a gentle smile, feeling like he was trying to coax a violent, wild animal from its protective corner. Yamato could scratch and bite him all he wanted, Hibiki was determined to help – even if the doubts he had pushed aside earlier were crowding back in. Did he go about this all wrong? Were you supposed to be blunt with stuff like this, or should he have continued with his pretend-obliviousness? Hibiki wasn’t a trained therapist, so it wasn’t as if he knew this stuff, he was just a teenager, but…

 

“…alright,” Hibiki took in a deep breath, “You don’t want it – that’s alright. But, um, if you ever do want it, I’ll always be here to give it, if, if you ever change your mind.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Hibiki pulled his hand back, and a stiff silence followed. Hibiki chewed his bottom lip so hard it started to hurt. Around them, the people in the café chattered on obliviously, their voices rising and falling in an unintelligible white noise as Hibiki stared at his drink, and Yamato glared at the far wall.

 

…he felt like he fucked up.

 

“So,” Hibiki began weakly, “Um, do you-”

 

“I think I will go home,” Yamato interrupted, standing up in a sudden movement. His face was cold. “Thank you for the drink, Kuze.”

 

The use of the last name felt like a physical blow, and Hibiki could only nod mutely as Yamato turned away and walked out of the café, leaving him all alone. Hibiki wasn’t sure how long he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, but it was probably longer than necessary, and he uttered a short, mirthless laugh by the end of it.

 

“Yeah, I totally messed that one up,” he muttered, pressing his hands against his face and grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. He totally messed it up… he wanted to help. He so wanted to help, and, and Hibiki felt like his progress had stopped with his usual methods of slow, careful friendship and knowing Yamato was going back to that place all alone and empty it was-

 

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t. Hibiki swallowed it down with old experience, and sighed heavily. He was sticking to his theory though; Yamato Hotsuin was depressed, and come hell or high water, Hibiki was not going to let him crash or burn, even if it made his friend hate him. He hoped he didn’t, because he loved their days out, the warmth of his hand, the small, fleeting smiles Yamato gave so rarely, that softened his normally harsh expression in a way that Hibiki just-

 

He clenched his hands tight. Right. Hibiki was going to make Yamato happy, even if he had to hurt him to do it.

 

Things had to get worse, before they got better, after all. 


	5. I'm Fine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am Yamato Hotsuin and I am fine!

_The shadows were long in the library, stretching from the bookshelves towards the wide open door. The wooden porch was visible in the pale morning light, and the song of the wind chimes hanging just outside the door echoed hollowly._

_It was cold._

_A layer of snow dusted the garden beyond the porch, and a few snowflakes, carried by the breeze, would flutter onto the dark wood. It was like ice – touching it sucked out all of the heat from his body, but he couldn’t move – he stood there, his feet bare, his legs and arms bare, and there was a vast whiteness before him-_

_But there were splotches of red too, smears of it, contrasting against the white, and it was so cold, the air before him would rise as a fog, smears of red, splotches of red, so bright it hurt his eyes and the snow still fell in gently and he was cold very very cold_

_And there was red and it was on his hands and dots of it on his bare feet, on the porch, the soft ‘tpt’ noise, ‘tpt’, ‘tpt’ and the red was hot against his skin and he remembered-_

_no, no he didn’t, he_ didn’t _remember_

_“I don’t…understand…”_

_black red and white and the red was **all over him**_

 

_“Why… are you looking…”_

**_and it smelt of copper and metal and he wanted to gag the red was sticking to his fingers to his hands to his arms to his face and it wouldn’t come off never come off never come off never never never_ **

_“…so upset…?”_

**_don’t make him remember-_ **

 

The shriek of his phone’s alarm jolted Yamato awake and half-out of his bed before he was consciously aware of it. One foot on the floor, the other tucked underneath him on the bed still, Yamato stared at his phone, feeling his fringe cling to his forehead from sweat, and his nightshirt doing the same. He was shaking. He was practically panting.

 

…

 

His phone was still shrieking.

 

Yamato snatched his phone up, turning the alarm off, and slowly, as if fearing a bomb would go off, he slid back into bed, under the covers, buried deep into safety, his phone tight in his hands as he tried to regulate his breathing into something less chaotic.

 

It took a minute, but he succeeded eventually. He didn’t dare move from beneath the covers, trying to grasp onto what he had been dreaming moments before. He… had been dreaming, hadn’t he? He must’ve… but as he tried to grasp at details, they slid between his fingers like sand, escaping into nothingness. Just… he had a vague feeling that he’d been upset over the colour red for some reason.

 

…probably nonsense.

 

He pushed the covers back and rolled over to contemplate the ceiling. It was dark, and the street outside was quiet with the exception of light rain hitting the windows. He closed his eyes, half-tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep, school be damned, but – no, no matter how many times he thought such rebellious things, he would still get up and go…

 

Ah.

 

Yamato lifted his phone up, squinting at the bright glare from its screen, seeing the stark numbers at the top of it. 05:32am, it said. He was supposed to be up and out of bed two minutes ago, to bustle about in preparation for school, and yet he still laid there, staring at the clock on his phone until the digits changed to 05:33am and the screen went black when it automatically went to sleep. Yamato let his phone rest on his chest and continued his contemplation of the ceiling.

 

Three days it had been raining. Three days since Sunday. Three days since Hibiki was cruel through good intentions, and ripped open a scab that Yamato had been picking at for several years. He had been angry for the first day, annoyed on the second, and on this third day… such emotions had faded into a dull, tolerable throb, and his damnably logical mind was looking back at the conversation with an impartial, clinical air.

 

_“Are you depressed?”_

 

Well, his mood had been a little low, but it had been like that since childhood. While most would have a bounty of endless energy and enthusiasm, Yamato had always been reserved in his manner and actions. He doubted people were just born depressed, so it was safe to assume that his sombre personality was simply how he was, not because he was unbearably sad.

 

 _‘But,’_ whispered a poisonous little corner of his mind, _‘it isn’t exactly normal to sit in a dark apartment by yourself staring at nothing. There is reserved, and then there is_ empty. _’_

 

 _No, it isn’t normal_ , Yamato acquiesced, _it isn’t at all._

 

This left him in a bit of a bind, admittedly. He liked to be honest with himself, even if it was a little difficult and painful at times. He was honest about the fact that he was a terrible person; really, his social skills were about as delicate as a blunt cleaver hacking at bone, and just as pleasant to endure. He pushed away most, if not all human contact, finding the majority of people he was forced to interact with draining and agonising, which, yes, did make him feel a little lonely at times, but that was basic human nature to want some form of pleasant social interaction, even in those that scorned it.

 

Yamato was honest about himself. He knew his shortcomings, and all of them involved people. Hibiki had been the exception – until that fiasco on Sunday, and now Yamato didn’t know what to think of him, or whether he even wanted to see him again because – Yamato was honest about himself, but he hated people digging into his vulnerable parts and forcing him to stare at them before he was ready to pick them apart himself.

 

_“Are you depressed?”_

 

The rain was getting louder, and it gave a nice little bit of white noise for Yamato. It made his room seem emptier, somehow, though, because that was the only noise. His own breathing and the noise of rain – and his phone giving a pitiful little beep when a message came through. Ah, an email message?

 

He lifted the phone up, and his eyes adjusted a little easier to the sudden bright glare this time. A tiny envelope icon was next to the clock, which now said 05:43am (had he really been lying there doing nothing for so long?), and he already knew who it was before he even opened it. So, the first bit of communication after three days of silence, hrn?

 

 _From: Hibiki_  
To: Yamato  
  
“Hey. I know this is coming a bit late, and you probably don’t want to talk to me ever again after I sort of… blundered through that, but I don’t regret any of it. I could have done it in a better way but it had to be said, poorly or otherwise.”

 

Yamato slowly blinked at the unusually polite message. Hibiki was not rude or rough in his speech, but even he had a teenage casualness to the way he spoke and wrote (when he was not using text-speak). This carried an awkward sort of formality to it that made a spike of dull intrigue rise in Yamato. He read on.

 

_“So, I guess this is me apologising for dragging it out without warning like that, and being a bit insensitive about it with you. BUT I’m not going to sweep it under the rug either and pretend it never happened – so, I sort of lied back there, so sorry for that too. Yamato-”_

 

He had to pause reading at this point, and he put his phone face down on his chest. He felt… gripped by something, although he didn’t know what. His heart was lodged somewhere in his throat, and the ceiling was dark and oppressive, looming over him like a weighted sword prepared to swing down at any moment. Melodramatic, perhaps, but there was undeniably a heavy mood lingering over him, that, something was stirring to change a very important course in his life’s path…

 

…

 

He needed to get out of this apartment more. That level of poetry to his internal monologue was embarrassing.

_“-Yamato, I want to help you. I want to make you happy. I want you to actually want to live, instead of just shuffling along in this weird state of empty survival. I’ve been there, done that, except you’re suffering more than I ever did and it makes me so scared and I don’t know why, because I actually really like you, even if you can be a dick at times, and I’m sorry for calling you a dick but it’s true, look okay I just want to help even if I don’t know how.”_

 

This was an obscenely long message, wasn’t it? The formality was beginning to slip into something more casual, but no less serious, and Yamato reread a few lines, unsure of what he was feeling exactly. It was almost six in the morning now, and he had to get up _right now_ if he wanted to get to school in time, but – how long had Hibiki been up to write this message at this time? Had he gotten up extra early, or not gotten up at all. Yamato let such small, inconsequential thoughts rotate through his mind slowly, before he forced himself to read the last few paragraphs.

 

_“We’ve known each other for, what, four to five months now? That’s probably not enough to build a deep friendship, but that’s what I think we’re edging towards. Friends. Okay we can still be acquaintances if that makes you more comfortable, but if you see me as an acquaintance I see you as a friend and that’s never changing. We’ve gone out and done things and I still think you should be an astrologist like you always want to be. Go and love stars and explore them and research them instead of getting dragged into some shitty job in a shitty company because your family is total shit._

_…sorry bit of personal bitterness there but I stand by it._

_Anyway, even if I’m telling you that, it’s all up to you in the end. You pick how you want to do this and end up in and- I like you, a lot, and we’re sort of similar, but I realise that it’s only in circumstances, really. We’re totally different, and what works for me probably won’t for you, so, all I can do is say I want to help even if helping’s just you calling me a jerk or a bastard for making you uncomfortable, I’ll do that._

_I think I’ve rambled enough, though, so I better go to school now. Call me later? xxx”_

 

The message ended at that, and Yamato set his phone back down, his mind oddly blank and calm. Hibiki’s message had been drowned in awkward, teenage sincerity, and it simply puzzled him. He remembered the overfamiliarity the boy sported, how he approached him in the park, offered him food, his jacket, smiled at him with open concern even though they had been perfect strangers.

 

Was he Hibiki’s project? Did the boy just pity him and want to ‘fix’ him for some form of self-satisfaction? Was he a fool with too good of a heart that was moved with sympathy? Or maybe this was some sort of great big trick, and Yamato was going to suffer a fatal punchline a few weeks down the line? He didn’t know, and these thoughts buzzed at him like a nest of aggravated hornets, paralysed to his bed with indecision.

 

Yamato was honest – to himself and everyone. What Hibiki did was tactless and unintentionally cruel, but… no, it couldn’t be a trick. Unless Hibiki was a sociopath and a master actor, Yamato had not seen the slightest shred of malice or deceit in him. Which left him with being pitied by a fool.

 

…his life had gotten so complicated, when before, although it had been empty, it had been simply. Get up, eat, go to school, sleep, then repeat.

 

Get up, eat, go to school, sleep, then repeat.

 

It had been simple.

 

Yamato looked at the message again, but the words were a little blurry, and his face felt strangely tight, his lips curved into a smile that was purely sardonic. Simple, but incredibly and soul-destroyingly boring. He probably would have expired from sheer boreout before he hit his thirties, no doubt.

 

He was honest…

 

_“Are you depressed?”_

 

Yamato didn’t know. He really didn’t. There were a lot of unknowns in his life, and Hibiki just introduced more of them, all of them painful and perplexing and there were days where he wished he never met that fool in the park, days where he wished he dozed off and never woke up again, or days were he wished he got up and walked home, and continued in his lifeless cycle over and over again.

 

“I hate you,” he said to the phone, and he uttered a short, mirthless bark, saying again, this time with a deep tremor to his voice, words sharp and acidic, “I hate you, you little naïve, prying, self-righteous fool.”

 

His phone said nothing to him, and rain just fell harder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was after school that Yamato wrote a message back. He didn’t think he was capable of actually calling him, like Hibiki invited, and he wrote it, not at home, with its oppressive emptiness and unbearably loud neighbours, but at the coffee shop that he had been in on Sunday.

 

The rain was almost at biblical levels, so it was mostly empty. Yamato was sat at the smallest table in the corner of the shop, his clothes sticking to him from wet, his fingers pale and numb from the sheer chill outside, with a cup of cheap tea in front of him, untouched, as his stiff fingers typed a slow, painstaking reply.

 

_“Kuze, your message was obscenely long, and judging by the time you sent it, I can only conclude you wrote it throughout the night instead of sleeping. Which I find hypocritical as you scolded me for not getting enough sleep.”_

Not off to a good start.

 

_“You needn’t apologise so often in that message as well. Three days was sufficient to think on the encounter in the café, and your message just confused me even further with your total lack of coherency. I think I managed to get the general gist out of it, though. You wish to help me, even if you lack the ability to help me at all, so all you can do is indulge in pitying, self-righteous behaviour that is more harmful than good.”_

 

Yamato stopped his typing, and took a mechanical sip of his tea. It was awful. He drank it anyway. Then he read over what he wrote, and his eyes were blurry and he just disliked this entire thing in general. He could just not contact Hibiki again, but Hibiki knew where he lived, and Yamato felt that if he didn’t give some form of acknowledgement that he was still alive, he would have the older student breaking down his door and making a total spectacle of himself on his front doorstep. Everything was just muddled up in a confusing knot now, because-

 

He was mad. Furious, even. Yet he understood, sort of, about the situation and why Hibiki was being so prying. He just didn’t like it all that much, because it was – confusing.

 

_“We have known each other for five months, and it is enough for us to maintain a superficial relationship. We are not close friends, no matter what you may have deluded yourself into believing, and you are just an interesting companion to pass the excess time I have on my hands. That is all. I need no one and have lived with no one long enough to know that I can survive without no one. Your actions on Sunday were inappropriate.”_

Yamato set the phone down, and he stared down at it with a critical eye. He felt like he was edging too much into a dark pit that he daren’t look into. Cold and dismissive he had intended this message to be, but past the cruel, cold words he was typing, he could see peeks of his inner turmoil shining right through. He was tempted to delete it, and just send a curt, _“I’m fine, please don’t contact me again”_ message but – he didn’t. For some stupid reason unknown to him, he picked up the phone and continued.

 

_“You’re too familiar and it makes me anxious.”_

 

Yamato only had that sentence on there for two seconds before he deleted it and started again.

 

_“But I know you are a persistant sort, so I am willing to forgive you if you make your intentions clear and known. If you pity me, then say so. If you are just a delusional fool, then say so. I need some sort of profile to know how I should conduct myself, and what to expect, so that at the very least, I can keep some form of entertainment in my life for the long, empty days where I have nothing to do. Do not forget that you are just-”_

Just… what? Yamato stared at that word, unable to really think of anything appropriate to put down – not an insult, of course, but, just… just… just…

 

_“You are just an acquaintance. I can easily eject you from my life if need be, and feel no compunction in doing so. Remember that.”_

His message was getting more and more incoherent, just like Hibiki’s, and Yamato honestly – he felt drained, because, this felt strangely therapeutic, but also he never felt so laid bare. He hadn’t put anything incriminating down – peeks of his vulnerability did show through, but it was acidic and harsh and would send any sane person away from him without a backwards glance. He was good at that, chasing people away. Intentionally, he meant.

 

He dithered, and then, resolutely, finished the message;

 

_“In short; I forgive you, do not meddle in matters that don’t concern you, and be rid of your delusion of friendship if you want this to continue.”_

 

Then, before he could reconsider, he sent it with a firm press of his thumb, and set his phone down on the table. Then he picked up his tea and sipped it – sipped it and sipped it until the bitter dregs remained and he was left holding an empty cup, feeling rooted to his chair. His phone then beeped.

 

It was only one sentence. A sentence that unearthed a horrible mess of conflicting emotions that Yamato didn’t know how to address.

 

_“Then I guess I’m a delusional fool because I’m not giving up on you.”_

Yamato’s perplexed mind settled on sharp amusement, and he let out a laugh that felt like it was being forced out of him, and put his phone away into his pocket, and – he was trapped in a confusing maze. He knew that. He was trapped in this complicated situation and relationship, and his life had been so simple before, simple and empty and predictable and now he had a fool dogging his every step, and he despised it greatly. He was absolutely fine – low mood, yes, exhaustion but merely from boredom.

 

He was fine.

 

He thought this firmly, his fingers drumming on the table. Yet his heart was stuck in his throat.

 

Internally, something in his very core quivered, and Yamato felt that, for once, maybe he wasn’t being honest with himself at all. 


	6. Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hibiki learns something pretty disturbing about Yamato's past.

Yamato’s school was obscenely posh.

 

This was the thought that floated through Hibiki’s mind as he stood outside of its gates, blatantly staring into its courtyard and at the building. It looked entirely Western, with bright red brick and ornamental ivy spreading all over the walls, its courtyard vast with a _fountain_ in the middle of it. It looked like it came out of the middle of an English novel set in the early twentieth century, and Hibiki felt grubby with his casual hoodie and jeans next to its beautiful iron wrought gates.

 

He checked his watch, tapping his foot against the pavement in discomfort. It was just past four o’clock, and school should be ending anytime soon. There were already a few cars waiting in the school’s parking space, and Hibiki could just _feel_ the stares he was getting from those waiting within the vehicles. They probably thought he was some weirdo kid lurking outside of these gates – and, really, he felt sorta creepy himself as a result – but Hibiki offered to walk with Yamato after school and, miraculously, his friend agreed.

 

It was the first time they were going to hang out after their argument a month ago. Until now, they had kept their distance from one another, if only because Yamato said he needed space to ‘think on things’, and Hibiki hadn’t wanted to push too hard, knowing how delicate the situation was, so their only communication had been through emails. Daily emails, which Hibiki viewed as a good sign.   

 

He was anxious to see Yamato though, physically, just to see that he had been looking after himself alright. He wondered if-

 

A shrill ring almost made Hibiki leap right out of his skin, jolting him out of his thoughts, and it took him a few panicked seconds to realise it was the end bell from the school. He looked past the gates again, into the courtyard, and a few minutes later students started trickling out. They were in a variety of ages, from twelve to eighteen, if he had to hazard a guess, which was surprising. A school with such a wide age gap…?

 

Students walked past him, and Hibiki ignored some of the looks he was getting from them. There was curiosity, confusion, some disdain, and outright hostile looks from some particularly snobby looking ones. Hibiki ignored them. He didn’t care if he looked like scruffy or whatever to some of these guys; he had stepped into the world of status and riches a few years back, and hated that poisonous air with a passion. Too much energy needed to be aware of one’s personal persona and friendships. Way too much…  

 

He couldn’t see Yamato, though, not at first, and he stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of passing students for a glimpse of white. Yamato was the only guy Hibiki had ever met with hair so naturally pale, so he shouldn’t be hard to spot in a sea of black and brown hair – which meant he was running late, or became a ninja and slipped past him _somehow_.

 

“I hope he didn’t chicken out,” Hibiki grumbled, crossing his arms as he tapped his foot again, the trickle of students starting to slow. As he checked his watch again, he heard someone step towards him, and he hurriedly looked up, hoping to see Yamato, but instead-

 

A young teenage girl, probably about fourteen, stood in front of him. She was dressed in a smart looking school uniform with a dark jacket and short skirt, her hair a deep black and down to her waist. She looked like a traditional beauty, and when she smiled at him, Hibiki couldn’t help but smile back. Hello, who was this?

 

“Er, can I help you?” Hibiki asked, unable to stop himself from glancing away just in case Yamato passed them by. He knew it was rude, but he just had a feeling that his friend was going to get cold feet…

 

“Are you looking for Hotsuin?” the girl asked, lifting a pale hand up to flip her long hair. When she spoke, she sounded sort of arrogant, but considering she was from a rich family, Hibiki wasn’t surprised or insulted.

 

“Mm? Yamato Hotsuin?” Hibiki was still scanning the crowd, “Uh, yeah. Why, you know him too?”

 

“He’s my classmate,” the girl continued, and from his peripheral, he saw her purse her thin lips into a pout. She probably wasn’t used to being ignored – well, not that Hibiki was ignoring her, but he was just- “You’re the person he sees after school, right?”

 

Hibiki looked at her then, his smile turning bemused. Huh? How could she possibly know that? They hadn’t seen each other in a month, so unless Yamato _told_ this girl (which he highly doubted), she must’ve seen them a few months back, when their relationship was good and not at all soured by this dark thing crouching over them. A quiet alarm bell started going off in the back of his mind, and Hibiki recalled… hm, wait a minute…

 

“Maybe,” Hibiki said vaguely, on guard now, “We haven’t seen each other in a long while so you may be thinking of someone else.”

 

“No. It’s definitely you,” the girl said, and her smile was edging into something like a smirk, “I’ve _seen_ you two, you know. At Shibuya – holding hands. Not recently though… so I presume you both had a sort of falling out.”

 

Hibiki stared at her neutrally and said nothing, his stomach knotting tightly.

 

The girl pursed her lips again, looking annoyed at the lack of response. A tense silence passed between them, the chatter of the oblivious students walking past them white noise to Hibiki. Pointedly, he looked away from the girl, and back at the last remaining groups leaving the school’s courtyard.

 

He was troubled. It wasn’t that he cared about accusations of his sexuality being less than favourable, but he didn’t want to give ammunition to this girl – it was obvious she harboured some form of malicious intent towards Yamato, and while Hibiki didn’t doubt that Yamato could take care of himself when it came to chasing off stupid teenagers, he didn’t want to make his life any more difficult than it already was. The last thing he needed was people bullying Yamato because they thought he was gay with him.

 

“I just wanted to see what kind of person Hotsuin would fall in with,” the girl continued, and her haughty tone grew thicker, her hand rising up once more to flip her hair, “He did nothing but look at the clock today, when he normally has his nose plastered to one of his stupid books. I thought it strange… but it turns out he was eager for his little date! Aren’t you ashamed? Allowing yourself to be seduced by someone like him? You perverted college student.”

 

The knotting feeling in Hibiki’s stomach grew worse at her words – firstly, _college student_? He knew he looked older than he was, but _geeze_ , he didn’t look that bad! Secondly – Yamato seducing _anyone_ just simply didn’t compute. He couldn’t seduce his way out of a paper bag… and _thirdly_ , what the hell was her intention here? Was she trying to _warn_ him off from Yamato like he was a womaniser, and Hibiki a naïve schoolgirl, or…? He seriously couldn’t read her at all. So he said nothing, just staring at the girl’s tense, unhappy face in utter bewilderment.

 

“Huh! No reply,” the girl sniffed, and she crossed her arms, looking away with a frown. “So my suspicions were correct. Who would have thought…”

 

 _Was everyone in this school creepily insane?_ Hibiki thought privately, having a growing urge to simply walk away from the conversation – but he couldn’t. He didn’t want Yamato to think he ditched him, speaking of, where the hell was he?! Save him from this lunatic of a girl…

 

“Pervert or not, though,” the girl continued, and she uncrossed her arms, taking a step closer. Her expression had turned into one of solemn seriousness, “You shouldn’t get too close to him. He’s cursed.”

 

…what?

 

“Cursed?” Hibiki repeated softly.

 

“Yeah,” the girl looked about herself, her voice dropping into a whisper. Unconsciously, Hibiki leaned in to hear her better, “Cursed. Haven’t you heard the story about the family that runs JP’s Company? Well, probably not,” she looked Hibiki up and down, her upper lip curling at his casual clothes, “It’s only something privy to those who dabble closely in their business, after all.”

 

Despite himself, Hibiki was intrigued, even if he felt horrible prying into Yamato’s backstory without his knowledge. He had wondered why the heir of JP’s company lived by himself in a small, cheap apartment, deep in the bowels of Tokyo, yet had unlimited funds to go to a posh boarding school and buy whatever he desired. It didn’t make that much sense when one thought about it – but Hibiki had always thought it was Yamato’s choice to live separate from his pressurised family. It was what he did after all. So, was there more to it…?

 

“I haven’t heard it,” Hibiki said, “But, isn’t cursed a harsh thing to say?”

 

“Harsh? It’s totally true!” the girl covered her mouth with her hand, as if scandalised, “Really, there was a police investigation and everything! You see, while Hotsuin _is_ the heir to the company, he wasn’t at first. There was _someone else_.”

 

Someone else?

 

“He wasn’t a direct family member, but, they work on a meritocracy system. A little strange, but who am I to criticise such a successful company?” the girl said, her tone saying that she didn’t approve at all, “But then, seven years ago, something _terrible_ happened. The previous heir _died_.”

 

“Died?” Hibiki whispered, his eyes widening.

 

The girl nodded, and despite trying to appear solemn, there was a vicious look of glee about her that was more suited to a seasoned gossiper, “Yes. He was _murdered_ , although they tried to keep it hush-hush,” her expression became smug, “Of course, my family have close ties with JP’s, so we were privy to some information that the public wouldn’t be.”

 

Hibiki absorbed this quietly, and while it was tragic, he couldn’t see how this tied into Yamato being ‘cursed’. So, the previous heir died, making Yamato the current heir. A bit shady, but he was seven then, and as intelligent as he was, Hibiki doubted he was capable of concocting assassination plots successfully. Besides, Yamato didn’t even want to be the heir.

 

“Okay…” Hibiki said slowly, “So the previous heir was murdered. So what? How does this make Yamato cursed?”

 

“Well,” the girl leaned in a bit more, her tone becoming excited, “This is a big secret amongst those of us who are close with the JP’s Company, but,” she smiled, “The Hotsuin family are big occultists, you see. They do all manners of dalliances with spirits and demons, performing strange rituals at all sorts of strange hours, and on the night that the previous heir was killed, the family was doing some sort of ritual involving _Yamato_ Hotsuin.”

 

This was… beginning to sound absolutely crazy. A seed of doubt began to wriggle in Hibiki about this story now because… come on. He had never heard of JP’s being involved in things like that – from the outside it was a modern, forward thinking company. “A ritual. Right.”

 

“This is completely true!” the girl insisted, “Ask anyone who goes to this school, they’ll all tell you the same. Even the teachers know it. It’s why no one gets close to him, because he’s cursed, and not only cursed, but _possessed_.”

 

“Are you for real?” Hibiki asked, entirely unimpressed, “This is the twenty first century. You shouldn’t believe stupid things like that.” He was feeling a bit rude at being so blunt with this girl, but he was actually a little angry. Was Yamato being ostracised here because people bought into this idea that he was cursed? Did his own family buy into it? No wonder he was fucking depressed if he had to live with this nonsense!

 

“It isn’t stupid!” the girl’s face was faintly red now, and she stamped her foot in a childish way, “Look, I’m trying to _help_ you, you fool! I don’t like you, in fact, I hate you just because you associate with that Hotsuin brat! But even I can’t stand by and watch you get _tricked_ by that monster!”

 

“He’s a fourteen year old _person_ ,” Hibiki said sharply, “Not a monster.”

 

“Ugh!” the girl threw up her hands before dropping them onto her hips, “He deserves nothing but contempt for what he is – he murdered the previous heir!” she half-shouted this, and Hibiki saw a few people turn to stare at them in shocked confusion. Hibiki leaned away from her, scandalised himself.

 

“What?” he blurted.

 

“You heard me,” she huffed, thankfully quieting her voice, “The night the Hotsuin family did that ritual, they summoned a demon into their own son! Then, in a possessed rage, he killed the previous heir, and crippled the current CEO of the company! He wasn’t paralysed from some car accident; his own son tried to kill him too, but failed when they managed to subdue the monster inside of him!”

 

Hibiki was speechless. Absolutely speechless. He stared at the girl, seeing her tense, almost frightened expression – it was genuine. He could see that. As much as the girl hated Yamato, she was also deeply terrified of him. But… seriously…? There was no way any of that was real! It sounded like something out of a bad horror film, or a manga. From the time Hibiki spent with Yamato, he showed no signs of murderous intent or mental imbalance. Sad and depressed, yes, but…

 

“I don’t believe you,” Hibiki half-whispered, “That just sounds totally crazy.”

 

“…fine,” the girl stepped away, and a heartbeat later, her composure was restored. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking down at Hibiki haughtily, “I don’t care what happens to you, anyway. I warned you, so it’s all up to you now. If your corpse ends up in the Tokyo Bay, you only have yourself to blame.”

 

And with that, the girl turned away and sauntered off, towards where a group of girls were chatting loudly near a sleek looking car. Hibiki watched her go, before turning away to stare at the open, beautiful school gates. The trickle was slow out of the school now, and there was still no sign of Yamato. Just as well because, he needed a minute or two to absorb what he just heard.

 

Yamato Hotsuin killed the previous heir and crippled his own father when he was possessed by a demon – at seven year’s old? It sounded completely ridiculous. Hibiki didn’t believe a word of it.

 

But the girl had looked terrified, and from the way she spoke, everyone in this school was terrified of Yamato as well – and his own family must be frightened also, if they forced him to live all by himself in a veritable pit in Tokyo. Yamato was shunned like a leper, so it stands to reason that _something_ must have happened within his own family to spawn these stupid rumours of him being cursed, or possessed, or whatever, and it must tie in with the previous heir dying.

 

Hibiki sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Looked like this became even more complicated… if he wanted to help Yamato, he would have to get to the bottom of this, discover the truth of what happened, and hopefully dispel the ridiculous view this school and his own family had on Yamato. But… he had a feeling Yamato would not be very forthcoming with details about it, hell, he probably gave up explaining himself if everyone thought of him as a monster, and therefore not to be trusted.

 

“Hibiki.”

 

A soft voice drew him out of his troubled thoughts, and Hibiki looked up to see Yamato standing just outside of the gates, looking at him with a guarded expression. Hibiki just _looked_ at him for a moment, studied his face, his expression… he looked normal. Absolutely nothing about him spoke of an inner madness.

 

“Hey,” Hibiki smiled, pushing aside his worries completely. He’ll dwell on it later, “You took a while to come out.”

 

“My apologies. I had to take care of something,” Yamato’s guarded expression eased, and he took a hesitant step closer. He was holding onto the strap of his bag tightly, and his shoulders were drawn tight – it was like being at square one, when they first met. Prickly and nervous, Hibiki ensured to handle him with the utmost care.

 

“Alright, it’s no trouble. Want to get going?”

 

Yamato nodded slowly, “We can,” he paused, “We may go to the chip shop that we went to on our first meeting. We have not been for a while.”

 

“We haven’t,” Hibiki agreed carefully, “But, sure. I am a bit peckish.”

 

And then they started walking. Yamato made sure to keep some distance between them, and he didn’t let go of his bag at all – but Hibiki didn’t mind. It pained him to have this wall between them, when before they had been close enough to joke, smile, and touch without hesitation, but… baby steps. Hibiki would start over no matter how many times to help him.  

 

Still…

 

“Hey, Yamato,” Hibiki began carefully, “Do you know a girl at your school with long, dark hair? Kind of pretty?”

 

Yamato just looked at him, “I know many of them. It’s almost as if they’re mass produced there.”

 

Hibiki almost bit through his tongue from stifling his laughter at that. Oh, humour from Yamato. This was surprisingly good progress, “Um, yeah, I guess so. But, uh, how about one that’s a classmate?”

 

“A classmate… do you mean Sato?” Yamato’s nose wrinkled slightly, “I know of her. She is irritating.”

 

Hibiki watched him closely. ‘Irritating’, he said, but nothing else? “I see.”

 

“Why?” Now it was Yamato’s turn to stare at him suspiciously, “I was unaware you knew anyone in my school but I.”

 

“Well,” Hibiki paused, “I just met her outside of your school. She seemed to… dislike you a lot.”

 

Yamato snorted, “An understatement. She despises me – most likely out of petty jealousy. She doesn’t hide how much she hates being shown up by me.”

 

Is that all it is? Did Sato tell Hibiki a ridiculous story in hopes that he would distance himself from Yamato, because she hated his guts over test scores of things? Probably, but… something about her frightened expression didn’t leave him alone. She had been genuine in her terror, and he doubted she would be that scared over someone just being smarter than her at school.

 

And furthermore… did Yamato know the true reason for her hatred, if she believed her own story true? Did he think everyone hated him because they were jealous of his intellect, or just plain didn’t like him? Hibiki didn’t want to bring up the subject in case Yamato didn’t, or, even worse, he _did_ , and he ended up ruining this chance of patching up.

 

So, probably unwisely, he dropped the subject.

 

“Sounds kind of annoying,” Hibiki said, and quickly moved on, “So you’re the smartest in the school, then?”

 

“At the moment. There are those who are not far behind me,” Yamato said in a rare show of humility, “It makes things more interesting, to have a bit of a challenge against someone.”

 

Hibiki had to smile at that. Trust Yamato to focus on something like that, “Yeah, it makes life a little more exciting.”

 

They chatted about inconsequential things after that, and Hibiki felt that their falling out a month’s past had been neatly smoothed over, but… still. The words that Sato told him that day didn’t leave him alone even once, and it gave birth to a new ambition inside of Hibiki regarding Yamato Hotsuin:

 

Firstly, he was going to make him happy, no matter what, and secondly, he was going to discover the truth of what happened on that night, seven years ago, come Hell or high water.


	7. Interlude: Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi, Hibiki, and Yamato go shopping for television sets.

Hibiki muffled a sneeze into the crook of his elbow, not wanting to let go of the overhead handle in his current situation. The train was jampacked, with every seat occupied and an obscene amount of people standing squashed together like sardines. Beside him, Hibiki heard Daichi give a quiet ‘ick’, his friend leaning away from him as much as he was able (which wasn’t much).

 

“Dude! You just sneezed all over me!” Daichi complained, jerking his hip to bump it against Hibiki’s in lieu of actually swatting him. He, too, was clutching onto his overhead handle with a death grip, as if afraid that he would topple over and get trampled if he let go. “That’s so gross…”

 

“Stop being a drama queen,” Hibiki sniffled, his voice nasally. “You’d just get cold germs.”

 

“Just cold germs, he says,” Daichi muttered to no one in particular, “Why aren’t you wearing a face mask? It’s like you want me to suffer with you!”

 

Hibiki gave him a long, silent look, before giving a pointed sniffle. Daichi grimaced in response, and then stepped on his foot in a friendly kind of way. Hibiki retaliated with a ‘friendly’ knee to the thigh.

 

It was when a competitive gleam began to enter Daichi’s eye that the train trundled to a halt, and a surge went through the crowd. People began shifting and squeezing and pushing through when trying to get off at their stop, and all Hibiki and Daichi could do, being in the thick of the throng, was to suffer the punishment of elbows and feet banging into them.

 

By the time the torture was over, the train was a little emptier, and only a few people came back on. Hibiki was just eyeing a nearby free seat (that also had the eye of almost everyone standing on the train), when a glimpse of white hair stepping onto their carriage drew his attention. A brief glance and-

 

“Ah- Yamato!” Hibiki called out, waving his free arm above the head of the somewhat crowded carriage to try and draw Yamato’s attention. The white haired teenager paused, already partially hidden behind a particularly stocky businessman, and leaned forwards slightly so that Hibiki could _just about_ see his pale eyes. He smiled in greeting.

 

“Come over here! C’moooon~”

 

“Oh, is that your crush?” Daichi stage-whispered, leaning in close to Hibiki to try and get a glimpse of Yamato as well. Hibiki lowered his hand and elbowed him ‘playfully’ in the ribs, his wide smile still on his lips. No mention of Hibiki’s selfish feelings could be uttered within earshot to Yamato – he didn’t want to scare his friend away, and have him suspecting that Hibiki’s kindness towards him carried the ulterior motive of attraction just when they managed to finally patch things up between them.

 

It had taken almost a month – a long, painful month of Yamato shying away from him, evading his gaze, and speaking curtly, and even after that, they still weren’t back to what they were before the Coffee Shop Incident. Hibiki hadn’t raised the depression thing _or_ the rumours behind Yamato’s past, even if he was _dying_ to try and get to the bottom of those issues as soon as possible. Building their friendship back up and winning Yamato’s trust took precedent over Hibiki’s selfish emotions.

 

“He’s my _friend_ , and yes,” Hibiki murmured, able to see that Yamato was making his careful way towards them in the carriage, “Don’t say stuff like that to him, okay?”

 

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Daichi said, leaning away to give Hibiki a millimetre of personal space, “Hey, isn’t he looking a little-”

 

He quietened when Yamato elegantly ducked under the arm of the woman standing beside them and was suddenly in their little makeshift circle. He reached up to grab the overhead handle just as the train shuddered to a start, and his expression was mild as he glanced between Hibiki and Daichi – however, Hibiki felt his smile freeze when he saw Yamato’s face clearly at last.

 

Yamato’s left cheek was heavily bruised, the stark mark spread over otherwise pale skin from corner of his mouth, to the bottom of his eye – it had even transitioned into a black eye, although Hibiki couldn’t tell if the bruising was just making his sleep-deprived bags look worse.

 

“Uh, Yamato…” Hibiki heard himself begin worriedly, but he was interrupted by Daichi’s abrupt blurt;

 

“Whoa… what happened to your face? Are you okay?”

 

Yamato didn’t look at all annoyed by the sudden questioning – he just gave Daichi a somewhat bemused look (ah, that’s right, he hadn’t met Daichi yet, had he?) and then shifted his gaze to Hibiki. Yamato was acting like there was nothing wrong at all.

 

“Are you friends with Hibiki?” Yamato suddenly asked, looking back at Daichi. Hibiki heard his friend stutter a little before confirming that, yes, he and Hibiki had been friends since childhood. Yamato, in turn, just let out a small, ambiguous sounding ‘hm’, although some tension that had been in his shoulders relaxed.

 

“Yamato,” Hibiki began again, unable to tear his gaze away from that stark, ugly bruise on Yamato’s face, “Fancy seeing you here. You going to Ikebukuro too?”

 

“Yes,” Yamato replied, “I need to do some shopping.”

 

It seemed a little far for Yamato to shop – Hibiki learned that his friend tended not to stray far from his neighbourhood unless it was necessary, like going to school. He did most of his shopping in the convenience stores near his apartment, so for him to actually make an effort to travel to a district like Ikebukuro without Hibiki harrying him about it was… peculiar. Unless Hibiki’s paranoia was in overdrive because of Yamato’s poor face…

 

“Well, we’re going there to shop too,” Hibiki said, managing a gentle smile, “Want to come with us? More fun in numbers, and you can get to know Daichi too!”

 

“Y-Yeah,” Daichi added when Hibiki trod on his foot pointedly, “Hibiki talks about you lots, so, it’d be great to, um, get to know you, like? Yeah…?”

 

Daichi was a disappointing wingman. Hibiki gave him an A for effort, though.

 

Yamato looked like he was considering it, a minute shift to his eyebrows signalling that he was thinking deeply. His expression calmed after a brief moment, and he gave a small nod. “I have nothing else to attend to today, so I don’t mind.”

 

“Great!” Hibiki said, then paused. Well, Yamato hated beating around the bush, so he’ll be blunt about it… “Uh, but, you’ve got a pretty nasty bruise there. Mind me asking how you got it?”

 

Yamato swayed with the motions of the train, so his sudden stillness was easy to spot when he stared at Hibiki. His face was impassive, and it was like trying to read emotion off lifeless marble when Hibiki tried to gauge him. It was a little frustrating, and Hibiki could feel something unpleasant tying his guts into knots as his imagination ran wild with possible theories as to how Yamato got that bruise. After witnessing it himself, he knew Yamato’s home life not to be the best, but he had presumed it to be simple neglect. Was there… was there more to it? Was Yamato-

 

“I slipped on a patch of ice this morning,” Yamato said, and he frowned, glancing down at their feet. He looked annoyed, “And as a result, I fell on my face. It was somewhat humiliating, but the damage could have been a lot worse.”

 

He…slipped?

 

That’s it?

 

Daichi winced in sympathy, “Ouch, that sounds painful… the ice is a lot worse this year though, huh? I slipped too yesterday!”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Hibiki muttered, already beginning to feel foolish for leaping to conclusions, “Because you landed on _me_.”

 

“W-Well, it was your fault for getting in the way…”

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hibiki shifted his feet a bit wider, taking advantage of the forced proximity between themselves to get a closer look at Yamato’s face. His friend leaned back, but didn’t pull away entirely, probably because the squashed nature of the train meant he _couldn’t_ , and stared at him blandly with his eyebrows lowered a fraction. “Does it hurt a lot?”

 

“Only a little. I have taken painkillers.”

 

There was silence between them then, filled by the clatter of the train going over its tracks, and Hibiki stared at the dark, ugly bruise with a small frown. Something about it unsettled him. He wasn’t sure why, but something just felt… not right with it. He couldn’t say anything though, and he leaned away, letting out an audible breath through his nose out of muted frustration.

 

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your face,” Daichi said, oblivious to the tense air – or keen of it and wanting to dispel it with some harmless gossip, “I heard in our school – you remember Hibiki – that girl who broke her nose when she fell a few months ago on Christmas?”

 

“I remember,” Hibiki murmured, “Although didn’t someone push her outside of a shop, or something?”

 

“Really? I haven’t heard that one. I heard she got drunk somehow and tripped.”

 

Yamato said nothing.

 

“Let’s not talk about that kinda stuff,” Hibiki said quickly, waving the topic aside with an easy smile. The train was beginning to slow again, and he peered out of the window to see the station’s name coming into view. “Just a few more stops. You want to go to Sunshine City? We were just planning on walking about, but it’s still pretty icy outside.”

 

“We went there a few days ago though,” Daichi grumbled, although Yamato looked a little more interested at the mention of ‘Sunshine City’.

 

Ah, sorry, Daichi, you will have to suffer. Hibiki gave his friend a pointed look, trying to telepathically convey an important message to him by the movements of his eyebrows as he said; “Well, we can go again. There’s plenty of stuff in there to keep us entertained.”

 

“…” Daichi stared at him blankly for a few moments before his eyes lit up in realisation, “Oh! Oh uh, yeah, yeah we can! Totally.”

 

“That is fine by me,” Yamato said quietly. Hibiki barely heard him over the noise of the train. Hm, wasn’t he acting a bit subdued this morning too? He just filed it away for something to watch out for, knowing how edgy Yamato got when Hibiki tried to pry into his personal life.

 

“Then Sunshine City it is!” Hibiki half-cheered, and with a shudder, the train came to a stop once more.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

The small café hadn’t changed since the last time Hibiki came here with Yamato, although its cosy size was driven home with the new addition. All three of them were seated around the corner table, bags of their purchase resting at their feet and coats shed to rest on the backs of the squashy, comfortable chairs. Yamato was wearing that tight, dark turtleneck again, and Hibiki kept getting distracted by the slope of his surprisingly broad shoulders, although he wasn’t sure why.

 

“And it’s back to being broke,” Daichi hummed around his straw beside him. Despite it being a chilly day, Daichi asked for a frozen chocolate slushie, where he was happily slurping it up through a bright pink straw, the cream atop of it long since eaten. “Goodbye, money, it was nice while I had you…”

 

“Money’s made to be spent frivolously in the time of our youth,” Hibiki said passionately, holding up his cup of hot chocolate, ignoring the melting cream dribbling over his fingers from the enthusiastic movement, “Splurge and splurge until we’ve gotta think about mortgages and taxes and stuff.”

 

“Ugh,” Daichi shuddered, “Don’t even mention those to me! I don’t want to think of them in my future…”

 

Sat opposite them, Yamato was quietly drinking his cup of tea – a massive pile of shredded sugar sachets littering the table by his elbow. He spoke very little during their outing, retaining that subdued demeanour – he didn’t seem sad, however, so Hibiki tried to press him as little as possible, in case Yamato was just in a quiet mood. He still kept a close eye on him though, him and that bruise…

 

In fact, despite saying he needed to go shopping, Hibiki hadn’t seen him buy anything at all. It had mostly been Daichi and him blowing their money on clothes and video games and food – the most Yamato had done was trail behind them, saying nothing and observing them. Ah, they had been leading the charge, maybe Yamato had wanted to go somewhere specific, and they just breezed by it?

 

“Hey, Yamato,” Hibiki called out to him gently, smiling when Yamato’s pale eyes looked up at him curiously, “What was it you needed to go shopping for? I haven’t seen you buy anything.”

 

“…a new television set,” Yamato replied after a pause, “My current one has broken.”

 

Ah. _Ah_. That explained a lot, actually. Yamato’s entire home life was based around that abhorrent television set, and it wasn’t something that the convenience stores sold around Yamato’s apartment. There was probably larger store in the neighbourhood that did, but maybe Yamato was unfamiliar with it, whereas he was familiar with Ikebukuro due to his outings with Hibiki. He tended to drag his friend to Shibuya or Ikebukuro, after all.

 

“Oh, you looking for a cheap one?” Daichi asked, “I think I know a place that-”

 

“Price is of no concern,” Yamato said simply, lifting his cup to daintily sip his tea, “Expensive or cheap, so long as it carries out its intended function to a satisfactory extend, I don’t care.”

 

Daichi was looking a bit pole-axed, but Hibiki just smiled in exasperation. ‘Price was of no concern’, huh? Yamato amazed him sometimes in how naïve he could be – even if he did have hardship in living isolated from a family that possibly hated him, he was still spoilt in other ways.

 

“It’s probably best to go cheap, but not too cheap. Me and Daichi’ll help you pick out a good one,” Hibiki offered, “What do you say?”

 

Yamato lowered his cup, his head slightly tilted. His fringe shifted a fraction, revealing more of that ugly bruise, and again, that brief spike of unease about it jabbed into his stomach. From falling on his face, he said, but wouldn’t he have scrapes with it, as well? There was nothing like that – with the exception of the bruise that blossomed so vividly across his cheek, there was no blemish to his skin that spoke of a rough landing on the pavement.

 

He kept such suspicions to himself, though. He didn’t want- he needed to handle Yamato _gently_ …

 

“Hmm, it would be interesting to see what opinions you two will have on what constitutes as a ‘good deal’…” Yamato muttered to himself, which bemused Hibiki. He shook his head, “Very well. I accept.”

 

“’Course you do,” Hibiki’s smile turned into a mischievous grin, “Of course, you should probably buy a Byakko Brand television-”

 

“Hold it!” Daichi interrupted, waving his hand and almost smacking Hibiki in the face, “What’s this? Shameless advertising of your family’s brand?”

 

“H-Hey, it’s just a suggestion! I mean, he can take JP’s if he really wants to…”

 

Yamato said nothing, watching Hibiki and Daichi’s playful arguing with an unreadable look. He didn’t seem annoyed, or confused, or anything – merely, curious, drinking up every action Hibiki and Daichi inflicted on each other like it was a fascinating thing he had never witnessed before. If Hibiki noticed, he almost would have said it looked a little wistful.

 

Just a little.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, they ended up buying a television set that was neither JP’s nor Byakko, for the sake of fairness.

 

“The box is kinda big…” Daichi noted, all three of them crowded around the box as they stood out in the street. Due to the chill in the air, and the ice on the floor, there weren’t many people walking by, and transporting this television set (which was, thankfully, quite small and in an easily carried, but still cumbersome box) would be perilous in these conditions.

 

“I’ll carry it,” Hibiki declared, squatting down to haul it up into his arms. It was _heavy_ , and he grunted from exertion, but he endured, hugging it as close to his chest as he possibly could. “You two will have to guide me because I can see Jack and Shit with this in the way.”

 

“Alright!” Hibiki heard and felt Daichi press his hands against his left shoulder and lower back, the bump of their shopping bags swinging from Daichi’s elbow hitting him on the hip. “Hey, Yamato! Grab his other side!”

 

“Ah, yes.”

 

A lot more hesitatingly, Hibiki felt Yamato’s gloved hands press against his shoulder and, even more reluctantly, his lower back. It was feather light, barely pressing, unlike Daichi’s, which was practically urging him forward already. Yamato’s touch burned white hot, even though his thick coat.

 

“Onwards!”

 

It probably looked ridiculous, what they were doing, but Hibiki didn’t care. They made their slow way down the street, Daichi pulling and shoving at his side, and Yamato gently pressing and guiding him with the other. There were a few mishaps where he almost ran into a few lampposts and one powerwalking businessman, but they slowly yet surely made their way onto the train station platform without breaking the television set, or, more importantly, breaking _him_.

 

“Phew…” Hibiki gladly set the box down at his feet, shaking his now numb arms out, “That was an ordeal…”

 

“You’re going to have such guns by the end of this,” Daichi told him, watching Hibiki flex his arms out. “How did you not drop that even once?”

 

“Well, you see, I’m just _that_ amazing,” Hibiki purred, planting his hands on his hips and jutting his chest out, a wide, cocky grin on his face. Truthfully, he didn’t drop it because he had managed to lock his arms out and _couldn’t_ make himself drop it, no matter how much he wanted to. He was paying the price though, because the burn of muscle fatigue was already piercing through his forearms. Ah, he was going to be so sore after this.

 

“Hn,” Yamato made a noise of disbelief, “Thank you for your assistance, but I think I will carry it for the rest of the way.”

 

“Eh?” Hibiki turned to him, “Hey, I don’t mind taking it all the way to your apartment.”

 

“No,” Yamato’s refusal was blunt, his face still, “I’ll carry it.”

 

“Okay…” Hibiki frowned, sensing that he was stepping on one of those ‘trust lines’, as he liked to dub them, certain subjects that would have Yamato shut down as fast as a broken computer. He reluctantly backed off, once again having that feeling of wrongness about Yamato today. He was always quiet, but this was a subdued sort of quiet, and what was with that reluctance to have him be near his apartment? Maybe he was just being paranoid…

 

“Ah, so we splitting up here, then?” Daichi asked, cutting through the tense moment, “We were going to go to the cinema, right?”

 

“Ah, uh, yeah,” Hibiki reluctantly allowed himself to be distracted, “The cinema… you should join us sometime, Yamato.”

 

“Mm, perhaps. I enjoyed today.”

 

At least those words were genuine, and Hibiki’s worried expression immediately brightened, feeling like the sun had blossomed in his chest at hearing those words. Behind him he heard Daichi mutter something quietly, but ignored it. “That’s great! I’m glad you did! I’ll call you next weekend about a day out – with me and Daichi!”

 

Yamato looked bemused at Hibiki’s enthusiasm, “…alright.”

 

“Yosh! Okay, let’s go, Daichi! See you around, Yamato, alright? Safe journey!”

 

“Yeah- ah! Whoa, Hibiki! You’re gonna rip my arm off…!”

 

Yamato watched as Hibiki quickly dragged a protesting Daichi away, slipping his hands into his pockets as their rowdy shouting and laughing faded away. The train’s platform was quiet now, only a handful of people milling about compared to the crowdedness of the morning. He muffled a quiet sigh into his scarf, and turned away to stare at the empty train tracks instead.

 

“Hm, so that’s how it’s meant to be like…” he muttered, and lifted a hand to rub against his bruised cheek. It hurt even to touch gently – and his lips downturned into a scowl. “Tch, irritating. As if force will make me listen.”

 

The roar of the train made him lift his head then, and he dropped his hand with a sigh, crouching down to haul the heavy box into his arms. He wished he could have accepted Hibiki’s offer to carry this back to his apartment now, but… it didn’t matter. He couldn’t overly rely on him – not now.

 

Not ever.   


End file.
